


Starlight

by ShootingStar7123



Series: Tempest Shepard Collection [1]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Drama, F/M, Family, Friendship, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2019-08-02 21:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 76
Words: 64,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16313117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShootingStar7123/pseuds/ShootingStar7123
Summary: This is a collection of stories spanning the life of Commander Shepard, from her childhood on Mindoir through to raising her own children. It visits the main romances of her life, Captain Grant (OC), Kaidan Alenko, and Garrus Vakarian. I am posting the stories here chronologically. For the original writing/posting order (non-chronological), please visit my author page on fanfiction dot net.This Shepard is a colonist, sole-survivor, paragon. She's a little crazy, a little troubled, and occasionally enjoys a good prank. She falls deeply in love with Garrus Vakarian.





	1. The Long Way Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Shepard family leaves Earth to start a new life. Pre-trilogy.

“It’s such a strange feeling,” Hannah Shepard said softly.

 

Her husband stepped up to the window next to her. “What is?” he asked.

 

She gave him a fleeting smile, then looked back out the window. “Leaving,” she answered simply. “We may never see Earth again, Ken.”

 

Kenneth Shepard put an arm around his wife’s shoulders, his gaze following hers. His eyes sought out the Earth, now nothing but a blue marble in a sea of darkness. It was the most beautiful and most terrifying sight he had ever seen.

 

“Following the light of the sun, we left the Old World,” he quoted. He squeezed his wife’s shoulder lightly. “For all of human history, man has looked up at the stars and wondered at their beauty and mystery. And now we’re among them, a part of that black sea of the night sky.”

 

Hannah glanced up at him, smiling at the way his eyes sparked with excitement. “It is pretty amazing,” she agreed. She shook her head slightly as she gazed back out towards the Earth. “As a child, I never could have imagined that someday I would live on another world.”

 

Her husband smiled off into the distance. “Our child will never know a world where the stars are out of her reach.”

 

Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach, resting on the barely discernible curve there. “If we can travel across the galaxy to start a new life on another world, think what she will be able to accomplish one day,” she said softly, leaning her head against her husband’s shoulder.

 

“More than we can possibly imagine,” he replied, and smiled.

 

The ship traveled steadily away from Earth until the planet was only a pale blue dot indiscernible to the naked eye, and then a near-instantaneous jump through time and space rendered it far beyond sight, a distance thought all but impossible only a few short years before.

 

As the ship approached Mindoir, they once again found themselves at the window, setting eyes upon a new world for the first time.

 

 _Home_ , Kenneth Shepard thought. _The most beautiful sight there is._

 

...


	2. Philosophy for Four Year Olds

Little Kate Shepard clung to her mother’s hand and looked around the downtown square excitedly. She loved coming into town with Mom. There was so much to look at and so many people!

 

Her mother was busy chatting with a friend, but Kate didn’t mind. Her eyes were wide, trying to take in everything. They zoned in on something unusual, something very unusual. There was a lady walking towards her, and her skin was _blue_!

 

Kate pulled on her mom’s hand excitedly, but her mom ignored her. Kate bit her lip. Well, if she couldn’t ask her mom about it, she would just ask the blue lady herself!

 

She tugged on the blue lady’s skirt as she started to go by. When the lady looked down at her, Kate asked the question that had been on the tip of her tongue since she saw her coming down the sidewalk.

 

“Why are you blue?” she asked.

 

The blue lady’s lips curved into a slight smile. “Why aren’t you?” she asked with a raised brow. There was no sarcasm in her voice, only amusement.

 

Kate’s mother turned, horrified. “Katherine!” she chastised. She looked at the blue lady. “I apologize. My daughter has never seen an asari before.”

 

The blue lady laughed gently. “No harm done,” she said kindly, and went on her way.

 

Kate’s mother gave her a long lecture on their walk home, but Kate couldn’t pay attention. Her thoughts were occupied with far more important matters.

 

As soon as her mother stopped talking, Kate couldn’t hold it in anymore. Her tiny brow contorted into a thoughtful frown.

 

“Mom?” she asked. “Why aren’t I blue?”

 

…


	3. Defender

You watch your daughters together, younger and older, the infant whose personality is yet to be discovered, and her protector.

 

Katherine, your Kate. She is only twelve but has somehow grown up. An expression here, a few words there, and the child is gone, disappearing into the woman.

 

She looks up at you and smiles; the illusion is broken. This flame-haired child has always been the source of both your joy and your strife. So stubborn, so contentious. So brave, so good. You forget how lucky you are sometimes.

 

As you watch her nurture and play with her younger sister, something steals over you. Though she is a child yet, somehow you know: great things lie in store for her.

 

You can’t explain how you know this, and though it is a wonderful thing, you feel a sense of foreboding with it.

 

Greatness, of course, comes with it’s own cost.

 

It is a passing thought, you reassure yourself, it could be nothing. For now she is simply her sister’s fearless protector, a child who argues about homework, an ordinary girl.

 

And you drink it in. Because ordinary doesn’t last forever.

 

…


	4. A Summer Place

Katherine Shepard closed her eyes, wind sweeping through her hair, and breathed in the faint scent of wheat and wildflowers on the late summer breeze. Harvest would begin soon.

 

She opened her eyes slowly, taking in the scene before her.

 

This was her favorite place.

 

From here, she could almost believe that there was no colony, that she was looking upon a world untouched by human hands. From her vantage point she could see the endless rolling hills stretching all the way to the horizon. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow all around her as she sat, legs hanging over the precipice of a jagged cliff, listening to the distant sound of water running far below her. She wasn’t afraid. She had been doing this all her life.

 

Nature was her only company as she watched the slow descent of the sun. The trees of the wood behind her seemed to whisper to each other as if gossiping over the strange spell of silence the sunset cast upon this young girl who was rarely so still or quiet. Only here, in her secret place, was her infinite restlessness calmed.

 

The sun was nearly touching the horizon now, the sky a ripe orange like pumpkins in fall. As it slipped behind the hills, the shadows lengthened, the sky deepened, and a tranquility stole over her. In the sun’s final moments, the crest of the hill seemed as if on fire, and then the illusion was ended, leaving a bruised purple sky in its wake.

 

She dropped back onto the cool moss and turned her eyes skyward, hoping to catch sight of the first star, the game she always played but never won. Before her eyes the sky slowly deepened to black, revealing countless pinpricks of light, a billion stars shining light on worlds beyond count, places she had dreamed of visiting but could not imagine.

 

Innumerable adventures awaited her out there among the stars, adventures that she would experience someday.

 

But today she must return home, to finish her homework, to listen to her mom’s lecture about staying out so late, to kiss her baby sister goodnight. Today must be like yesterday, and the day before it, and the day before that.

 

But before returning to that life, before leaving the place that was hers alone, she made herself a promise that one day it would be different.

 

One day, she would go to the stars.

                                                                                             

…


	5. Those Damn Blue Eyes

“Well, she’s got a hell of a right hook.” I winced, touching my left cheekbone which was bruising already. It wasn’t going to be fun to explain this one to my crew.

 

Dr. Felding couldn’t hide her smirk. “She has lot of power for such a little thing. I’m sorry I missed it!” She cackled as she went for a cold pack to calm the swelling. The doctor had always been a bit of a sadist.

 

The girl in question was unconscious on one of the sick bay beds, where I had placed her only moments ago. Felding handed the cold pack to me and turned to the girl. “What happened?”

 

“As soon as I told her what the situation was, she flew out of the chair and punched me. Before I could even react, she was on the floor unconscious,” I explained.

 

The doctor nodded. “Adrenaline rush, low blood sugar,” she said, scanning the girl with her omni-tool. “I’m not surprised she passed out. She’s got a bump on the head from that fall, but it doesn’t look serious. She’ll be alright once we feed her something.”

 

Felding paused, eyeing me with a slight shirk. “She might attack you again I she sees you when she wakes up.”

 

I looked down at the girl. I didn’t really think she would hit me again, but there was no way to know for sure. “I’ll be prepared for it this time,” I assured.

 

“Whatever you say, Captain.” Her eyes were sparkling—I’m pretty sure she wanted to see me get punched again.

I sat next to the bed and waited. Moments after the food tray was delivered, the girl began to stir. “Sorry,” she said, looking at my bruised cheek. In spite of her apology, her eyes were still angry.

 

I couldn’t be angry. I’d seen marines take bad news worse than this girl had. Besides, my guilt complex was getting to me. I knew it wasn’t our fault—we were only a patrol, not a strike team expecting to fight several ships of slavers—but I couldn’t help feeling responsible.  “Don’t worry about it,” I told her, bringing the tray of food over. “You need to eat something.” The chef, hearing about our passenger’s situation, had given her a little bit of everything.

 

She nodded, pushing herself into a sitting position. Without another word, she took the tray and began to eat, ignoring my presence entirely.

 

I watched her as she ate. I’d never been punched by a sixteen-year-old girl before. I was surprised by her strength. But  even before she’d attacked me I had known she was different—she had stood out from the moment I saw her. She’d been sitting in that chair outside the med bay, slouching in the way that only a moody teenager could, when I saw her turn, those deep blue eyes staring at me. Blue eyes on their own were unusual these days, but combined with such vivid red hair, well… somehow, I found it difficult to tear my gaze away.

 

I tried not to let myself think of her as beautiful—she was a minor under my care. But her odd sort of beauty couldn’t be denied, and I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t stop looking. She seemed completely unaware of her status as something of a genetic rarity, or even how unusual it was to be a civilian passenger on an Alliance ship.

 

I could tell, from the very first, that she was going to be trouble.

 

…

 

Of course, I had more to worry about than our lone survivor. We had Batarian slavers to contend with.

 

There were too many of them for us to fight. We saw ship after ship taking the colonists, and we couldn’t even get near them. Communications were blocked, and we had been the only patrol in the area. It wouldn’t take long for the Alliance to realize there was a problem, but we knew it wouldn’t be fast enough to save the colonists.

 

Our ship was damaged, communications were blocked. We couldn’t call for help or retrieve it ourselves. We were on our own to save the colonists.

 

My men who had tried to infiltrate were mostly killed, and those that came back were traumatized, having witnessed unspeakable horrors of torture and mutilation. In our determination, we tried to go in a second time, but we were so far outnumbered that it didn’t matter.

 

There was nothing we could do.

 

At dawn, the ships flew away as we watched, powerless, stranded on a destroyed colony.

 

…

 

“I want to come with you.” Those blue eyes were so adamant that I had trouble refusing her demand.

 

“It’s not safe. You’re under my protection, and I’m responsible for any harm that comes to you,” I told her. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you go.”

 

She turned away, trying to hide the tears filling her eyes. “I just want to see my home one more time.”

 

I sighed. “You don’t want to see it like this.” I knew I was right, but this was paining me nonetheless. I waited for some sign from her, some acknowledgement of my response.

 

After a long moment, she turned to me, the tears now gone. “I hate you.” I will never forget the look in her eyes or the venom in her voice.

 

Before I could respond, she was gone, running to her makeshift quarters. I shook my head, angry at myself for how badly I’d wanted to give in.

 

…

 

The small team I’d assembled entered the settlement quietly. It was eerie to see the once-bustling colony so silent. We entered the homes, hoping to find any survivors, but all we found were corpses. The mutilation was unbearable to see, and I could sense my team’s feelings of revulsion and shock. I tried to steel myself against it, knowing that I had to be strong for my crew. All anyone wanted to do was return to the ship and get off this God-forsaken planet, but we had a job to do.

 

We found no remaining slavers and no survivors. Our trip to the colony had been fruitless—all we had now were memories of the horrors we’d seen. But on our way back, I noticed movement near one of the dwellings. I told my men to go on without me while I went to investigate.

 

As I approached the doorway I saw her, unaware of my presence. She stooped over to pick something up—a small stuffed monkey. She stared at it as if it were a ghost.

 

“I told you not to leave the ship.” As she heard me, she moved to run. I was faster.

 

I grabbed her by the arm, gripping it tightly as she struggled. I whipped her around to face me, those damn blue eyes staring at me accusingly, as if I was personally responsible for the murder of her family.

 

I stared right back, anger rising up in me. “While you’re on my ship, you will _never_ disobey my orders again.”

 

She wouldn’t be intimidated. “Your ship?” she scoffed, and it was the first time I realized she hadn’t known.

 

“Yes,” I told her, meeting her eyes with as much force as I could muster. “I’m the captain. And you _will_ remember that.”

 

She stared, refusing to back down from a challenge. But determination wasn’t the only thing I saw in her eyes.

 

I immediately turned away. “We’re going back to the ship.” She tried to shake my hand off her arm, glaring at me when I wouldn’t let her go.

 

I didn’t trust her on her own. Of course, I didn’t trust myself with her either. Everything that happened, I blamed on those damn blue eyes.

 

…


	6. Light Years

You see her, so forlorn in the corner of the room, sitting on tangled blankets splayed across the cot your crew made up for her. The room is nearly bare but for the neatly folded pile of standard-issue Alliance fatigues and the clothes she’d been wearing when she arrived, heaped unceremoniously at the foot of her bed. You notice that stuffed monkey she hardly lets go of at the base of the opposite wall, as if she’d thrown it across the room. It isn’t a happy place for a teenage girl, but it’s the best you can do.

 

She looks up as you enter, and you realize how oddly intimate this moment is. She looks beautiful in the dim light, her eyes open and vulnerable until she remembers to put her guard up.

 

She looks at you expectantly, and you clear your throat, suddenly feeling as if you don’t know what to say.

 

“We’re headed for the mass relay,” you tell her. “I thought you might want to watch.” She silently nods and gets up, following you out of her room.

 

She admitted to you prior to leaving Mindoir that she had never been off-world before, so you are eager to see how she reacts to the relay jump. You want to tell her how spectacular it is, how much amazement you felt the first time you went through, but you know you should keep your interactions as short as you can. You are already taken in by the girl, and you don’t need to become more attached.

 

It’s bad enough that you have no idea when she’ll be permitted to leave the ship. As soon as the press had gotten hold of the story of your young survivor, political turmoil had surrounded her. With no known family, the matter of her placement had somehow become a public issue. You know that if the Alliance doesn’t handle this well, things could go very badly.

 

But for you, the reputation of the Alliance is the least of your concerns. What really worries you is that you are stuck with her until ‘further notice’, which could easily mean months, if you know anything about politics. Your attachment to her is only growing stronger, your feelings becoming more dangerous with each passing day.

 

When you finally reach the cockpit, you see her eyes widen, and you remember what it was like the first time you saw a relay for yourself. Everyone has seen photos and holos, of course, but seeing one in front of your eyes, knowing that it’s about to send you hundreds or thousands of light years away, is an unforgettable experience.

 

As the girl stares out the window, you stare at her, studying her expression as you loom closer to the relay. It warms you to see the wonder in her eyes, those eyes that are usually so full of shrouded anger and pain.

 

When it’s over, she stays still, staring outward into the void until you put a hand on her shoulder. Her focus broken, she turns, and the two of you walk back to her room in silence. You can’t help thinking she is an odd girl. A few days ago when you told her she couldn’t wander the ship without an escort, she didn’t put up even a front of defiance. You had anticipated anger or at least some kind of disagreement, but you’ve learned not to guess her reactions in advance. You never know whether to expect frosty silence or a full outburst of emotion from her, and it keeps you completely off-balance.

 

Once you arrive back at her room, you turn to go. “Captain, wait,” comes her voice from behind you.

 

The door closes, a barrier between the two of you and the rest of the world, and you turn to her. She comes close, too close, those ocean eyes staring up at you solemnly.

 

“Thank you,” she says, placing a hand on your arm. The way you feel when those fingers press down on your sleeve is wrong and you know it, but you don’t stop her.

 

You look into her eyes and a realization comes over you—she seems so much older than sixteen. Between the day you found her on Mindoir and today, hardly a week, she has aged years.

 

That hand snakes up your arm to touch your face, and still you don’t stop her. You want this, and you hate yourself for it. You shouldn’t feel so powerless under her spell, but the truth is that you don’t want to resist. Her red hair shines in the dim light, and you know you are a lost cause.

 

“Kiss me, Kate,” you whisper. She is on you immediately, as if she had been waiting forever for those words. Electricity jolts through you as your lips touch, and it feels as if your soul is on fire. Your arms wrap around her of their own volition, and you don’t care that you’re touching her, that you are doing exactly what you told yourself you would never do. All the desires you’ve held back are coming to fruition in this moment, this moment when time has stopped and nothing matters except the two of you.

 

After a minute (or was it longer?), it hits you that you’ve got to stop this. You pull away in a sudden movement, taking a step back. She’s flushed and panting, and the two of you stare at each other, at a loss for what to do next.

 

As soon as you can find your wits, you turn on your heel and leave the room. Your heart is racing, and you berate yourself for it. This is wrong, so wrong, and yet you want it more than you can say.

 

The image of her, flushed and out of breath, lips plump and red from your kiss, sticks in your mind. It’s then that you realize she isn’t the only one changed. You are not the man you were before Mindoir. You’re a world away from that man. Light years.

 

You don’t know what’s going to happen, but you know how much danger you are in. The consequences of someone finding out your secret terrifies you. But what scares you even more, however, is that there’s a large part of you that just doesn’t care.

 

All you want is to feel her lips on yours again.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: Please don't take this as condoning relationships with underaged persons. Katherine Shepard is a traumatized survivor acting out. Captain Grant is conflicted, but that doesn't make him a good man.


	7. Into Temptation

“You’ve been avoiding me,” came a familiar voice from behind.

 

She knew. Of course she knew. With a sigh, I turned to face my accuser. She had cornered me; we were alone, and I couldn’t escape.

 

“Why?” she demanded. “Why are you avoiding me?” Her face was set in a determined expression, the one I found so hard to defy.

 

I glanced away. “You know why, Kate,” I told her, silently begging her to understand.

 

“You’re wasting your time,” she responded, her fingers making their way up my arm. “There are rumors already. What does it matter now?” she asked in an impassioned whisper.

 

I ripped my arm away, looking back at her. “That’s _why_ it matters,” I told her, my voice shaking slightly. “We can’t do this, Kate, and you know that.”

 

She shook her head at me, those unwavering blue eyes looking directly into mine. “Yes, we can,” she said softly. Her fingers were back, creeping their way up my arms, around my neck. My resolve was waning.

 

I did nothing as her face hovered closer to mine. How long could one man fight against his own desires?

 

“We can’t—” I began, my voice breaking. I wanted this, longed for it. Dreamed of it.

 

Her words were just a whisper, her lips inches from mine. “No one has to know.”

 

Before I knew it, my lips were crashing into hers with a passion I’d never known, lightning coursing through my veins as I pulled her to me, her body against mine.

 

I wanted her.

 

My hands slipped under the hem of her shirt, feeling her warm, soft skin against my palms. She writhed against me, unable or unwilling to hide her desire. She was perfection made flesh, a lithe body that curved into mine, fingers that trailed over my skin sensuously, eyes that spoke of deep passions and secrets waiting to be discovered.

 

Unable to hold back, I lifted her shirt over her head. She made no protest, pushing me back against the wall to unfasten the top of my uniform. My body revealed to her, she traced her fingers and lips down my chest, inflicting pleasure as she went, holding me under her spell.

 

Wishing her lips on mine again, I pulled her up, her mouth crashing against mine once more. My head was filled only with thoughts of desire, until she took my hand to place on her breast.

 

Just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. It was as if I had been woken from a dream, doused with cold water. The spell was broken.

 

I pushed her away, realizing what we’d done. Her eyes were filled with confusion and then anger. “Why stop now?” she demanded softly, closing the space I’d made between us. Her blue eyes looked up at me fiercely as I clothed myself, ashamed. Afraid.

 

“You want this,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.

 

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t encourage this. “No one can know what happened here,” I told her, in a voice that I hoped was firm enough.

 

Her eyes were piercing, as if she understood my deepest thoughts and feelings better than I understood them myself. “They won’t,” she said simply, and stepped away.

 

I stared after her as she composed herself, giving me only a cursory glance as she went out the door, speaking to me over her shoulder.

 

“We’ll meet again, Captain,” were her parting words, and I couldn’t deny the truth in them. I was swimming against a tidal wave, slowly being pulled under.

 

I was falling into temptation, and there was no way out.

 

…


	8. For Now

Captain Grant stole a glance at the sullen teenager walking beside him. She was angry at him, of course, though she really had no right to be.

 

It wasn’t his fault that her entry testing with the Alliance had revealed her to be a latent biotic.

 

He’d been puzzling over it since the evaluation officer had told him. How had she hidden it from him? Untrained biotics were nearly impossible to conceal. He didn’t, however, have to ask himself _why_ she hid it from him.

 

Had they known she was a biotic, the problem of her placement would have been solved months ago, and she would already be in training. As it was, she would be leaving as soon as she could pack her things. She wasn’t eighteen yet, not old enough to sign up with the Alliance, but she was old enough for the biotic training program, and Grant was glad of it.

 

He needed to get her off his ship. He was far too invested in her, dangerous invested in her—and she encouraged his feelings as much as he fought against them. She didn’t care that it was wrong, but he knew this had all gone much too far already. It had to end, and soon.

 

His resolve wasn’t strong enough to last forever.

 

Kate didn’t say a single word to him as they met up and headed back towards the ship, exuding only a stony silence. She didn’t want to go, but it was too late now. The decision had been made for her, and they were already on the way back to her room so she could pack her things.

 

Her silence ended as soon as the door to her quarters closed behind them. “Happy to be rid of me?” she asked bitterly, staring at him with those angry, accusing eyes. She turned away to place her things in a small pack, every forceful movement a testament to her anger.

 

Grant sighed. “You know this is for the best, Kate.”

 

She turned back from packing and walked straight up to him, standing tall and defiant against him. “No, Captain,” she began, in a low, intense voice. “Do you want to know why I wanted to join the Alliance?” she asked, her eyes challenging him to back down.

 

Those eyes compelled him to respond, though he was certain that he didn’t want to know the answer—he was afraid of the answer. “Why?” he asked, hesitation obvious in his quiet voice.

 

She visibly softened, though the determination never left her eyes as she spoke. “Because it means that one day I can come back to you.”

 

Grant’s mind reeled at the implications of her statement, staring at the young girl in shock. “Kate… you know I can’t ever allow you to serve on my crew.”

 

She stared him down. “You’ll change your mind one day. I know you. You won’t be able to keep yourself from me.”

 

That look in her eyes shook him to the core, the strength of will behind her words almost too much. He wanted her so badly, but he couldn’t give in. He could never give in.

 

With effort, he turned from her. “You should finish packing,” he said.

 

After a moment of silence, he heard her footsteps moving to the other end of the room to gather her things. He stared at the door, counting the seconds until she finished. Every moment they were together was dangerous, and he could only hold out so long.

 

When she had packed up what little she had, she came up to him, and the two of them walked to the airlock in silence.

 

“Goodbye, Kate,” he said. There was regret in his voice, but he could never give in. For both their sakes, she had to go.

 

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him fervently. He desired so much more, but when she ended the kiss, he did not fight it.

 

That determined look was in her eyes again when she pulled away, blue as fierce as fire. “For now,” she said.

 

Before she stepped out of the airlock and out of his life, she gave him one more lingering look. Grant watched as she walked away, his eyes trained on her until the door slid shut. Shaking, he breathed a visible sigh of relief.

 

This had been a test, and he’d passed. For now.

 

…


	9. Mission Impossible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Shepard really wants is to get laid. Is that too much to ask for? Some reference to Shepard/Grant (OC), just after joining the Alliance.

“It’s so hard to get laid around this place,” I grumbled to my roommate. Her eyes met mine in the mirror.

 

“You might be able to get a boyfriend if all the guys weren’t terrified of you,” Jen laughingly reprimanded.

 

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want a boyfriend. I just want some action.” I paused to run a brush through my short hair. “Besides, if all the guys weren’t such wimps, they wouldn’t be intimidated.”

 

Now it was Jen’s turn to roll her eyes. “They’re embarrassed that you’re at the top of our class. That’s male pride for you.”

 

“I failed engine tech,” I supplied. “What about that?”

 

She laughed again. She was always laughing. “Tech isn’t manly enough to restore their pride. What you need to find is a guy who’s turned on by the idea of a powerful woman,” she explained.

 

All I did was sigh. We’d been in training for months and I hadn’t had sex once, and that was definitely not cool. I was eighteen and out on my own—this was the time for me to have fun.

 

Besides, it would do wonders for getting Captain Grant off my mind.

 

Makeup finished, Jen turned and looked at me. She pursed her lips. “Are you wearing that?” she demanded.

 

I looked down at myself. “What’s wrong with this?” I asked, and she shook her head.

 

“It’s a _dance_ , Sky. You should be wearing a dress,” she chastised. It was still odd to hear her call me Sky, even though I’d made the change months ago, when I signed up with the Alliance. I’d spent my whole life as Kate, but I needed the change. I wasn’t Kate anymore.

 

Bringing myself back to the present, I gave her a look. “I don’t wear dresses.”

 

She gave me a look right back. “Tonight, you do.”

 

I watched as she went over to her closet, flipping through dress after dress. For a military recruit, Jen was ridiculously girly.

 

“Here,” she said, holding it out to me. “It’s plain black and simple enough that even _you_ can’t object. You’ll look stunning.”

 

I took it from her cautiously. “I don’t know, Jen.”

 

“Just do it,” she ordered. “I promise it will get you some attention.”

 

I sighed, but did as she said. When I had it on, I checked myself out in the mirror. It showed off my toned arms and shoulders, which was great, but it also showed way more cleavage than I was used to (which was none). When I turned to look at the back, it was almost completely bare down to the base of my spine.

 

“Really, Jen?” I wasn’t so sure about this.

 

She put her arm around me, turning me back to look at ourselves in the mirror. “You said you want to get laid. This dress will do it for you. Guaranteed.”

 

“If it doesn’t?” I asked, eyebrow raised.

 

“You can kick my ass.” Jen grinned confidently. She let go of me and turned to her dresser. “Now,” she began, “I just need to find you some jewelry…”

 

“Jen,” I whined. “I thought the dress was enough!”

 

“Oh, it will be,” she said, back still turned. “This part is just for fun.”

 

When she turned back to me with a few different necklaces in her hands, I shook my head.

 

“If I don’t get laid tonight, I am so going to kill you.”

 

She smirked. “I have confidence in my abilities.”

 

_Well_ , I thought, looking at myself, _at least one of us does_.

 

Late that night when I returned to my room, she looked at me expectantly. “Well?”

 

I crossed my arms. “You got lucky.”

 

She grinned. “Sounds like you were the one who got lucky.”

 

I threw a shoe at her, and she giggled as she ducked. “You can thank me later,” she promised.

 

Jen was infuriating as hell, but I had to give her some credit—her plan worked just as well as she said it would. Now if I could only try it on the Captain…

 

Shit. This was supposed to get my mind off him.

 

I sighed. There was nothing that was strong enough to do that. I got out my little holo of his ship, the Einstein.

 

_Someday_ , I thought.

 

…


	10. Survival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s the only one left. Pre-trilogy.

_I wish I were dead._

 

The thought surfaces just as the monster does.

 

The ground beneath you shakes violently and you hear a roar that chills you to the bone.

 

You’ve never prayed before, but you find yourself praying to whatever deities you can think of that the creature doesn’t find your hiding place wedged between two rocks, a bit away from the campsite.

 

Or maybe you should let it find you after all, and this hell will finally end.

 

You’re the only one left.

 

Acid burns in your veins as you quake in fear from your hiding place. Nothing in your training has prepared you for this. You’re out of medi-gel. You’re out of ammo. You’re out of options.

 

First, you think you should wait until search and rescue arrives. Then you remember—you _were_ the search and rescue team.

 

The ground beneath you shakes again, and you pull out your burnt and battered rifle instinctively, before you remember the futility of your actions. You watch the worm-like creature destroying the remains of your ship and camp.

 

You’re supposed to be the smart and resourceful one, tenacious, quick-thinking, and steady under pressure. But none of those qualities managed to save your platoon. You failed them. You failed yourself. What do you have left? A broken rifle. Half-melted armor.

 

_Your life,_ you hear a small voice say inside you. It sounds suspiciously like your mother.

 

She’s right. You know yourself well enough to be sure that you won’t give it up this easily.

 

Sometimes you wish you could. Your family is dead, your platoon is dead, and all you’ve got to return to is your own failure.

 

You tell yourself to give it up. To go out there and let it take you. It’s a better death than starvation. _Do it,_ you urge yourself. _Give up._

 

It’s useless. You won’t.

 

You take a moment to shift into a more comfortable position, and the ground below you shakes once again. You slip.

 

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you hope desperately that it didn’t see you.

 

You hear a terrible scream, and look.

 

You start running.

 

…

 

You wake with a start, immediately reaching to the bedside table for a weapon that isn’t there.

 

You stopped sleeping beside a pistol years ago.

 

You glance to your other side, relieved to see your bedmate sleeping soundly. There is no reason your nightmares should disturb him _._

 

You pad barefoot to the desk. If you aren’t going to get any sleep, you can at least get some work done. Goodness knows you have enough of it.

 

But as soon as the screen switches on, you hears the sound of rustling bedsheets.

 

You sigh quietly as he gets up and comes around behind you. It would be easier if he didn’t insist on talking, but you know better than to hope for that.

 

“Can’t sleep?” he asks quietly.

 

You do not answer.

 

He leans back on the desk, looking down on you with concern. “Which dream?” he asks simply.

 

You don’t look at him as you answer. “Akuze.”

 

He gets up again, moving around behind you, and reaches out to press a button. The screen goes blank.

 

Before you can protest, he’s turning your chair around, bringing you to face him. You look up at him plaintively, waiting to see what he’ll do.

 

“Come on,” is all he says. His voice is gentle.

 

He takes your hands to help you up, putting an arm around you as you walk towards the bed. Out there, in the world, you take care of him. He’s on your team, and that’s what you do. But in here, sometimes you let him take care of you. In this private place, no one else will ever see those moments of weakness.

 

He is the one who gets the bottle and shakes out two pills, who fills the glass of water and hands both to you. He doesn’t grudge you the drugs anymore. He knows.

 

“You won’t dream,” he says softly, and you swallow the pills. You fall asleep to the feeling of a talon running gently through your hair.

 

He was right. You don’t dream at all.

 

…


	11. The Walking Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> N7 training is always difficult, but Shepard’s subconscious seems determined to make it a living hell. She won’t let it. Pre-trilogy.

_The fields were burning._

_The smell of smoke assaulted her as she ran. The only thought in her head as she emerged from the brush was to find home and family._

_Caution was the last thing on her mind—until she saw them, the monsters who had caused all of this. She had read about batarians in school, and now she was seeing them with her own eyes. Seeing them gun down people she had known since birth, seeing them drag screaming children into cages, seeing them beat and burn those who tried to resist._

_She crept the rest of the way to her house at the edge of town, knowing that if they heard her she would be taken like the rest, and a quick death would be the best she could hope for. But she couldn’t let herself get caught—she had to find Kaylie and her parents. As she slipped in through the back door, she heard screaming. Her mother’s voice._

_Her heart pounded so loud that she was certain she would be found next. She took slow, careful steps towards the door, unsure of what she was going to do, certain that she had to do something. But when she was grabbed from behind, she knew it was all over._

 

Shepard woke in a cold sweat. She closed her eyes and took long, deep breaths until her heart stopped racing. Lifting her head to look around, she saw that everyone else was still sleeping. No sign of light on the horizon.

 

She let out a sigh and dropped back onto the rocky ground, her bed for the night, if you could call a couple hours of sleep a ‘night’. N7 training was known to be brutal, and this was only the beginning.

 

Her subconscious seemed determined to make it even more difficult, dredging up these memories that she had tried so hard to leave behind. She closed her eyes again, hoping that her mind was done sabotaging her, at least for one night. She willed the memories to leave her in peace. She couldn’t relive this. Not now.

 

_She struggled in vain against the arms that held her. Just as she was about to scream, a hand slammed over her mouth. A human hand._

_“Don’t make a sound,” hissed a voice in her ear. Panicked, she continued to struggle, unable to see the face of the one who held her captive. But her attempts were fruitless as the human overpowered her, dragging her away from danger, her family, and the only home she’d ever known._

_She could still hear the screaming, even as they carried her aboard the ship._

The screams turned to the sound of a shrill whistle as she was roused from sleep. She sat up groggily and stretched, groaning at her aching limbs.

 

“You look like hell,” came a voice from beside her. She turned to see one of her fellow recruits, Malcolm, grinning at her.

 

“Thanks,” she said dryly. “You know, I could say the same for you, Mal,” she retorted, though it really wasn’t true. How he was still smiling after days of this was beyond her.

 

“I mean it,” Mal said with a shrug. “You look worse than yesterday,” he insisted.

 

She raised an eyebrow. “You sure know how to compliment a girl,” she deadpanned.

 

But behind the smiles, she could detect a hint of worry in his brown eyes. “Didn’t you get any sleep?” he asked.

 

She sighed and looked off, watching the others chatting and gathering their things. “I slept,” she told him.

 

“Uh-huh,” he responded, clearly not convinced.

 

She turned back to him. “It wasn’t the best night’s sleep ever, but I’m fine,” she insisted, getting up to gather up what few things she had with her. She didn’t want him to get distracted from their training on her account.

 

She could hear him getting up behind her. “You know,” he began in a playful tone, “Next time you have trouble sleeping, remember my bedroll has room for two…” When she turned, his eyes were sparkling mischievously.

 

She shook her head, trying to hide the smile that was playing at her lips. “You are such a tease, Mal.”

 

He grinned. “Still trying to make you blush.”

 

She crossed her arms. “So you’re just going to keep ramping it up until it works?” she asked.

 

“That’s the plan,” he said with a shrug and a smile, and she couldn’t help smiling back. His lighthearted friendship had kept her going for days now, and the memories that had haunted her dreams were already drifting away on the early morning breeze.

 

She heard another shrill whistle. “Move out!” shouted the sergeant, and the two of them put on their packs. Another long day lay ahead of them, but Shepard was ready to face anything that might come.

 

The memories were just that—memories—and she wasn’t going to let them stop her from greeting every day head on. She would meet each new challenge, and she would defeat it, because that’s who she was.

 

_You’re a Shepard,_ her father had once said. _You’re strong._

 

And she was. She was _Ava_ Shepard now, and she would overcome it all.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this chapter involves yet another name change for Shepard. If you haven't caught on yet, she changes her first name every time she has a life-changing event. She was born as Katherine Shepard, then changed her name to Sky after Mindoir and leaving the Einstein. After Akuze, she chose the name Ava. She has at least one name change left to come. Please comment if you have any questions!


	12. Another Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Grant meet face to face after a long time apart. Shepard/Grant (OC), slight Shepard/Kaidan, early ME1.

“You have a singular ability to attract followers, Kate.”

 

I knew before I turned that it was him behind me. “Captain,” I whispered, and went for him, but he put his hands up to stop me.

 

“I’ve been following your career,” he said, his eyes kind but guarded.

 

“Yet you won’t ever see me.” I sounded petulant, but that was how he always made me feel. Like I was sixteen again.

 

He stepped forward and took my hands in his. “Because you need to move on.” His eyes looked deep into mine. “Please.”

 

The words I had planned for him died on my lips. _Come with me_ , I wanted to say, but I already knew his answer.

 

I took a step back, knowing I should go. “By the way, my name’s not Kate,” I told him.

 

His smile was sad. “You’ll always be Kate to me.”

 

Hearing him say it always made my heart ache with what could have been. If he wanted to, he could have had me. He could have let himself love me. But he didn’t and wouldn’t. There was nothing left for me here, and I was only hurting myself by letting this go on.

 

My voice was soft as I turned away. “Goodbye, Captain.” I could feel his eyes on me as I walked, but I couldn’t look back. He’d made his choice and I had to make mine.

 

After all that time, I guess I owed it to myself to finally do it.

 

I met Kaidan’s eyes across the room as I approached him and Ashley, and he gave me a smile.

 

Time to move on.

 

…


	13. Mako Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a reason why she never let anyone else drive the Mako. ME1.

 “Um, Shepard?” tentatively questioned the turian sitting in the Mako’s passenger seat. “Is there a reason we’re scaling the mountain?”

 

Shepard, Garrus and Ashley, who was at the turret controls, could hear the Mako’s wheels grinding against the steep rock face. Shepard, pedal to the floor, did not answer the question.

 

As the Mako began to skid on the rocks, sliding backwards unsteadily, Garrus felt queasy. He’d been attempting to tinker with the wires under the dash, but now could only sit back and shut his eyes, hoping the sensation would pass.

 

“Come on,” Shepard muttered to herself, “Find some traction!” She maneuvered the Mako backwards slightly, then lurched it forward, catching onto a small patch of grass. “Aha!” she crowed triumphantly.

 

Garrus let out a relieved sigh as they came over the peak of the mountain, hoping that things would go more smoothly from here on out. “Was that really necessary, Shepard?” he couldn’t help  asking. “There was a perfectly flat area we could have crossed instead of climbing the whole mountain.”

 

The commander sounded casual as she answered. “It was a thresher maw nest.”

 

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you avoid a fight,” Garrus mused in surprise. “I mean, you usually try to negotiate first, but…”

 

“You can’t negotiate with thresher maws,” Shepard replied stiffly. Garrus gave her an odd look, but she said nothing else.

 

When the three of them got out at their destination, Shepard marched off determinedly towards the prefab structure while Garrus stretched his legs and Ash climbed out the back of the vehicle.

 

Suddenly, Garrus felt a whack on the back of his head. Rubbing it, he turned and saw Ashley standing behind him. “What the hell was that for?” he demanded.

 

“How could you be so insensitive?” she vented, and he just stared at her in confusion.

 

She whacked him again. “Akuze, you idiot!”

 

“Ow!” He glared at her, rubbing the back of his head. “And I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

She rolled her eyes at you. “You know nothing at all about her, do you?” she rebuked.

 

Having had enough of her physical and verbal abuse, Garrus moved to turn away, but she grabbed the barrel of his rifle and wouldn’t let go. Her eyes were on fire. “She watched her whole team get mauled by thresher maws on Akuze! She almost died!” Ash vented in a low voice. “So the next time I hear you say one damn word about a thresher maw _or_ her driving, I’ll have your ass on a platter.”

 

The two of them just stared at each other, him in shock and her in anger, until a voice interrupted them.

 

“What the hell are you two doing?” Shepard called from near the door. “Hurry up!”

 

Ashley let go of the turian’s rifle and sauntered off towards the commander. “Waiting on you, Garrus,” she called back to him.

 

With a shake of his head, he followed.

 

Ash was right, he mused, his eyes following the woman in question, red hair waving in the breeze. He’d been so focused on the mission that he hadn’t thought about getting to know his captain.

 

 _No time like the present,_ he thought, and jogged to catch up.

 

…


	14. Butting In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard is the nosiest person in the galaxy. Kaidan begins to understand why people allow it. One-sided Shepard/Kaidan, ME1.

“Who the hell was that?”

 

Kaidan could hear the muttering coming from behind him, and it was hard to keep from shaking his head at the whole situation. He never would have dared to simply wander the Presidium, going into offices, butting into conversations, and giving advice to strangers, but, then again, he wasn’t Shepard.

 

People’s reluctance never seemed to stop her. She would coax secrets out of strangers as if she were their best friend rather than an eavesdropper who happened to be walking by. And then she’d inevitably offer to help with whatever crisis they might be having at that moment. That generally meant that he was volunteered too.

 

Kaidan thought this stop at the Citadel would be a short one—talk to the Council and get on their way—but Shepard managed to draw it out by finding one thing after another to do, solving problems for people they would likely never see again.

 

He’d never met anyone so nosy or so stubbornly fearless, and he was amazed over and over that she got answers to her questions instead of dirty looks or a punch in the face. No one ever seemed to get angry at her for getting into what was never really her business.

 

It wasn’t until she started doing the same thing to him that he began to understand.

 

People talked to her because she listened. He didn’t realize, until she asked, how much he’d wanted this. She had this way of showing interest, of making you feel as if you were the only person in the world. She wanted to hear what you had to say. When someone offers a friendly ear, listening without judging, things begin to pour out.

 

He told her about Rahna, something he had never spoken about before. He told her everything. He hadn’t hesitated, and she hadn’t judged. He couldn’t really explain why he did it, but he was far from alone. Like everyone else, he fell under her spell.

 

Under the circumstances, how could he avoid falling in love with her?

 

…


	15. Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard can only stay on the ship so long before going a little stir-crazy. She's a colony kid, after all. Slight Shepard/Kaidan, ME1.

It was a usual trip to an uncharted world when the Mako came to an unexpected stop.

 

Kaidan looked over at the woman in the driver’s seat. “Something wrong, Shepard?”

 

“Nope,” she said simply and smiled. “I just thought we might take a break.” And with that, she opened the hatch and hopped out of the Mako.

 

Kaidan glanced at the quarian sitting behind him, but Tali only shrugged and followed the commander.

 

When Kaidan emerged from the Mako, he saw Shepard splayed out on the grass, red hair fanned out around her head. Tali was sitting down next to her, reclining back on her arms to survey the area.

 

“What’s this?” Kaidan asked, coming over to Shepard’s side.

 

She smiled. “It’s a beautiful day,” she said decisively. “And we’re going to enjoy it.”

 

Kaidan was about to list all the things they had to do that were more important than sunning themselves on an uncharted world, but then he thought better of it and simply sat down beside her to enjoy the moment. He didn’t do that often enough.

 

All three of them were silent for a few minutes before he finally spoke up. “Why now?” was his question.

 

“Felt like it,” Shepard answered, shading her eyes as she shot him a grin. Her smile softened when he returned it. He couldn’t help returning it. He never could, with her.

 

“I grew up on a farm,” she explained. “After being on the ship for so long, well, sometimes I just need a little sunlight.” She closed her eyes, turning her face towards the sky. She was so beautiful, Kaidan thought.

 

Tali piped up unexpectedly. “I never saw sunshine until I left the flotilla,” she confided. “Not like this.”

 

Shepard shook her head. “I can’t imagine growing up like that,” she said. She turned her eyes towards the horizon. “I spent all my time outside,” she told them. “My friends and I climbed trees and built forts and swam in the river. Only a colony kid, right?” she said with a wry smile.

 

“I think that sounds amazing,” Tali replied dreamily. Poor kid, Kaidan thought, stuck in a suit, never knowing so many of the great experiences of childhood.

 

He could tell by the look on her face that Shepard was thinking the same thing. “You’ve never done anything like that at all, have you?” she asked, and Tali shook her head.

 

After a moment of silence, Shepard got up. “Come on,” she said, and held out a hand to help Tali up.

 

“Where are we going?” the young quarian asked.

 

Shepard grinned. “To find you a tree to climb.”

 

…


	16. The Weight of Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girl could have been her sister.

We had barely gotten to the Citadel when I received the call. We’d just left the docking bay, but I immediately turned around and got in the elevator again.

 

I couldn’t leave her.

 

She was so obviously scared and traumatized, and my heart ached in ways that it hadn’t for years. I had gone through my mourning period, so long delayed, after Akuze, years ago. I couldn’t keep myself from dealing with those feelings forever, but I had thought I was past it now. I was wrong. Through this girl I found myself reliving it all over again.

 

Her name was Talitha, and she couldn’t have been much more than eighteen years old. Kaylie would have been close to her age, I realized. This broken girl, she could have been my sister.

 

I never knew if my family had been killed or taken—the bodies on Mindoir were left unidentified. My family could still have been out there, slaves living in Talitha’s hell. I couldn’t stop myself from imagining Kaylie going through the horrors that this girl described.

 

The old wound had been scraped open, feeling just as fresh as it had been thirteen years ago. There was no closure. There could never truly be closure when I didn’t know if my baby sister was out there enslaved and tortured.

 

But I was a master at appearing calm under any circumstance, and I buried deep the agony and revulsion I felt as she described the things she had endured.

 

Her pain, her fear… it broke my heart. She was still a child, the little girl whose parents were taken away. I had to save her. I couldn’t save Kaylie, but I could save this girl. Someone else’s Kaylie.

 

When she took the sedative I offered, she asked me if she would have nightmares. I lied. I took her in my arms and told her everything would be okay. What else could I have done?

 

Turmoil was bubbling beneath my composed exterior as I told the lieutenant that it was over. He promised to give me an update later, and I was glad. She wasn’t my Kaylie, but she may as well have been.

 

We had just docked at the Citadel, but I went straight back onto the ship. I could only keep up the façade for so long. It was the first time I was truly grateful for private quarters.

 

I sat on the edge of the bed, unable to formulate clear thoughts. In my mind all I could see was Kaylie, the beautiful little girl who I had loved so dearly, my sister, my favorite. I held her stuffed monkey in my hands, my most prized possession. It was all I had left of Mindoir, and of her.

 

They rebuilt the colony, and I had visited it once, when the memorial was erected. I had been so blindly naive… I thought it would feel like coming home.

 

Everywhere I went, all I could see were the ghosts of what had been. I promised myself that day that I would never go back again. So far I’ve kept that promise.

 

Everything I’d been avoiding for years had come for me, burying me under the weight of my memories. I hadn’t seen my family get taken, but I had seen enough. Little girls like Talitha and Kaylie should never have to experience the horrors I knew they had.

 

Reaching to my bedside table, I picked up the bottle of pills that Chakwas always had ready for me. After the first time, I never needed to ask. She simply refilled the bottle, understanding without needing explanation.

 

_You’ll dream of a warm, safe place. And when you wake up, you’ll be there._

 

I opened the bottle and shook out a pill. I wished so desperately that it could be true for both of us.

 

I swallowed the pill and laid down in bed, still holding Kaylie’s stuffed toy from so long ago.

 

The nightmare was over for me, over for Talitha. But some things scar you for life, and there’s no escaping that.

 

_Please_ , I silently begged to no one in particular. _Don’t let me dream._

 

…


	17. Elevator Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard has a reason to hate elevators. Mid-late ME1.

Shepard stared at the open doors apprehensively.

 

She’d really come to hate elevators.

 

She knew that was pretty ridiculous. It was hardly the elevator’s fault. But every time her team was in close quarters with no distractions, _it_ happened.

 

_“The quarians endangered the entire galaxy when they let the geth break free.  I hope your people are properly contrite, Tali.”_

_“As the turians are properly contrite for releasing the genophage upon the krogan?”_

_“You’re assuming that sterilizing them was a mistake.”_

 

So she’d stopped taking Garrus and Tali to the Citadel together, which seemed simple enough. But it made no difference. The next time she was in an elevator with her team, Wrex and Kaidan had an their own uncomfortable conversation.

 

_“I haven’t spent much time with any krogan before, Wrex. I have to say, you’re not what I expected.”_

_“Right. Because you humans have a wide range of cultures and attitudes, but krogan all think and act exactly alike.”_

_“Look, I didn’t mean —- Just forget I said anything.”_

_“Done.”_

 

And it was _always_ like that. Every damn time! It didn’t matter who she brought along. Who would have known that putting together a multiracial crew would be so incredibly, painfully, brutally awkward?

 

Shepard glanced at the elevator warily and then back at her team. “You know what?” she said, “I don’t think this whole ‘Prothean skyway’ thing is that important after all.”

 

…


	18. Trench Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at what’s running through Shepard’s mind as the team approaches the Conduit on Ilos. Late ME1.

_“I can’t slow down for a second, Garrus. Can you do this?”_

_He’d made a sound that was the turian equivalent of a snort and ducked into the turret without a word._

 

Adrenaline pumped painfully through every muscle in Shepard’s body as she pushed the thrusters to maximum. She’d long ago perfected the art of honing her adrenaline into a weapon, but right now there was little outlet for it. All she could do was drive. The mako rocked from side to side, dodging rockets at full speed as it barreled through the trench. Water splashed over the visual sensors but she couldn’t wait for it to clear away. Forward. Always forward.

 

The young quarian beside her gripped the seat tightly, her nervous anticipation charging the atmosphere of the vehicle. Tali was Shepard’s best geth fighter, but now she was wondering if she should have brought Kaidan instead. Would the quarian crack under the pressure? They couldn’t afford to find out. It was too late for doubts and maybes.

 

_“Alenko, I don’t need another biotic,” she’d said sharply, frustrated. Less than an hour ago they’d been intimate in her quarters and now they were arguing. She shouldn’t have been surprised. One time in bed was more than enough to make a man overprotective. “You’re staying here,” she ordered. “Look after the ship, Lieutenant.”_

_After a pause, he’d saluted. “Aye aye, ma’am.”_

_He was always a good soldier._

 

Under normal circumstances, Tali and Garrus would be complaining about her driving and telling her just how much damage they’d have to repair later, but not this time. All that mattered now was getting to the Conduit, not whether the Mako would be driveable afterwards. The interior of the vehicle was silent, Tali’s eyes on the visual sensors, Garrus targeting geth after geth through the turret. His aim would have to be perfect. If the geth took out the mako, it would all be over.

 

 _Why won’t this thing go faster?_ The thruster was all the damn way forward but it wasn’t fast enough. They were running out of time.

 

And yet she still stopped when she saw it towering in front of them, pulsating and blue. It was magnificent. Terrifying.

 

She’d never been afraid of a mass relay before.

 

She’d never realized how the bulk of the ship had comforted her, made her feel safe and secure from the void that surrounded it. Her battered tank didn’t seem to be enough.

 

“Shepard.”

 

The modulated voice came from the young quarian beside her—more determined than she’d expected. Shepard knew what it meant. There was no time for gawking or questioning their next move.

 

She gunned it again. There were geth. More than before. She didn’t have time to count them, to wonder if the Mako could make it past them to the Conduit. All she could do was gun it and pray to a god she didn’t believe in that they could just _get there._

 

And somehow, they did. As the Mako rushed towards the relay, a blue tendril stretched out and grabbed them, pulling them upwards and away, hurtling through time and space to the battle she was meant to fight.

 

It was time.

 

…


	19. Invictus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Normandy crew attends the memorial service for Ashley Williams. Shepard/Kaidan, between ME1 & ME2.

Shepard was grateful for the calming presence just behind her even though he could do little to comfort her in this public setting. She took strength from his presence. She needed it now more than ever, though in a way he was also a reminder of how she’d failed. What she’d done.

 

_Go get the lieutenant and get the hell out of here._

 

Those words haunted her more often than they should.

 

On a mission like theirs, it was a damn miracle that there had only been one casualty among the crew. But all the logic in the world couldn’t rid her of a feeling of responsibility. She should have done better. Found a better way.

 

Next time, she would.

 

Shepard stared at the flowers covering the memorial and let out a sigh. Ash would probably have preferred a few choice mods for her rifle to a bouquet of flowers. Shepard didn’t have any weapons or mods to offer, though she’d seen Vakarian nestle one somewhere among the roses. She recognized it—a particular scope mod that he and Ashley had good-naturedly argued over for weeks in the cargo bay. She’d ‘borrow’ it to mod her rifle and he’d ‘borrow’ it right back for the next mission. Ashley had been so damn suspicious of him at first, but in the end they’d almost been friends.

 

Ash had grown so much, and now she was gone.

 

Shepard’s offering was of a different sort. Her fingers tightened around the book, feeling for the bookmark nestled between its pages.

 

She tried to keep her soft voice steady as she read the poem, still sensing that comforting presence just out of her vision. It wasn’t Tennyson, but she was sure Ash would have appreciated it anyway. Her mind followed tangents of thought as she spoke the words.

 

_I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul._

 

Those words spoke of Ash so strongly.

 

Her spirit, her… _self_ was so strong that Shepard could still hear her voice commenting on every action. She was as indomitable in death as in life. They hadn’t always agreed—in fact, they’d disagreed more often than not. But she’d always spoken her mind. She was a breath of fresh air, an honest presence and a solid soldier. She had a spirit and vivacity that made it seem impossible for her to be gone.

 

_In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud._

_Under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed._

 

Ash never hesitated. She knew what needed to be done and she’d done it without fear or a look back. She was a goddamn hero, a martyr, but she could have been so much more.

 

Shepard had known her only a short time, and yet she’d miss her so damn much. Somehow, in the midst of all of this, she had become a good friend. Next time, if there was a next time, she would do better. She wouldn’t lose another like this. She wouldn’t.

 

_I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul._

 

She placed the book on the memorial with trembling hands, staring at it’s brown, worn cover as she stepped back.

 

Saying goodbye was never easy. She knew it better than most.

 

She turned towards the presence that had never wavered, the stalwart comforter in silence. “You okay?” he asked, voice low. He didn’t reach out for her, not here, but she could feel how he wanted to and that was enough.

 

She met his warm brown eyes with a sad smile. “I’ll be fine,” she told him, and looked around. A distance away, she saw a woman and three girls mourning together, and she paled. “Ashley’s family,” she whispered, more to herself than him. “I need to—” She broke off, not knowing exactly what it was she meant to do—only that she had to do it.

 

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked softly. So concerned, as if he wasn’t hurting just as much as she was.

 

She shook her head, blue eyes on his brown ones. She glanced away, towards the family. “No,” she told him. “I need to do this myself.”

 

She straightened up and took that first step towards them. She didn’t know what she was going to say, but she had to say it. She had to do something for them.

 

And she’d do better next time.

 

…

 


	20. Lack of Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard wants Kaidan to use her name. Shepard/Kaidan, between ME1 and destruction of the Normandy.

“Goddamn it, Kaidan, how many times do I have to tell you to use my name?” She pounded the mattress with her fist and twisted around to give him a dirty look. “I’m not going to get off with you calling me Commander all the time.”

 

Kaidan sighed, dropping his head to touch Shepard’s bare back. “Sorry, Commander.”

 

She slammed her fist down again, making Kaidan jerk away from her. “See, _this_ is what I’m talking about, Kaidan. We’re having sex for fuck’s sake, you can call me by my name.”

 

“Sorry, Shepard,” he said, shaking his head.

 

“Ava,” she supplied. “Try Ava. Please?” She looked back at him again, her eyes suddenly apologetic rather than angry.

 

“Okay…. Ava.” He tested out the name. It felt odd on his lips. “Let’s try this again.”

 

She rolled over on her back and he mounted her again.

 

“Mmm, Kaidan,” she moaned as she writhed under him. “Harder.”

 

“ _Harder_ , Kaidan,” she insisted, grabbing his hand and placing it solidly on her breast, massaging herself through his hand.

 

As he did as she asked, she began to moan. Kaidan still wasn’t used to how loud Shepard could get in bed. But before long he’d stopped thinking, his low moans joining with her louder ones.

 

“Oh, God, Kaidan, I’m gonna…” she trailed off into a cry, reaching her peak.

 

“Ohh, Shepard…” he moaned softly, restrained even in the throes of passion.

 

Catching his breath, Kaidan pushed himself over, dropping down beside his lover.

 

When his ragged breathing had returned to normal, he opened his eyes. She was propped up on an arm, watching him. “You did it again.”

 

He sighed, dropping the back of his hand across his eyes. “Sorry, Commander.”

 

Shepard rolled out of bed, talking to him over her shoulder. “You know what, Kaidan? Don’t worry about it.”

 

And with that, the bathroom door shut behind her. Kaidan could hear the shower turning on as he sat up in bed.

 

Physical intimacy was one thing. But emotional intimacy was something he just didn’t do. Not on duty. Not with his commanding officer.

 

Kaidan sighed as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, moving to get his clothes.

 

She wanted something he wasn’t capable of. She wanted what he couldn’t give her.

 

How long could he possibly hold on to her like this?

 

…

 


	21. Into Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In her final moments, she remembers. Shepard/Grant (OC), ME2.

It isn’t supposed to end like this.

 

When I see the Normandy drifting away from me, I know that it’s me who’s drifting. I wonder how long I’ll be lost out in space, and then I realize I can’t breathe.

 

I struggle for a moment, but I already know the futility of my actions.

 

It isn’t supposed to end like this, but it will.

 

The few seconds that I’m without air seem like eternity.

 

They say your life flashes before your eyes, but that’s not true. You only see what’s important, those moments that truly matter.

 

I see my mother’s sad eyes when I run from the house into the woods outside of town. I see my sister’s stuffed toy on the floor of our burned and broken home. I see a thresher maw, dead soldiers, and nowhere to turn. I see an explosion on Virmire, a mass relay across a room of geth. That instinct telling me to gun it and pray.

 

But most of all, I see your face. I see my fist connecting with your cheek when you finally tell me the truth. I see you from across the room at the Citadel, your warm brown eyes latching onto mine. I feel our lips meeting for the first time.

 

You are the last thing I remember. My last memory, my last regret.

 

It isn’t supposed to end like this.

 

…


	22. The Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard wasn’t the only one who lost something over Alchera. Between ME1 and ME2.

Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau was having a nightmare. That was the only possible explanation.

 

He’d wake up and Shepard would get onto him for falling asleep in his chair. He’d say something to irritate her, she’d roll her eyes, and everything would be normal. They’d land on some backwater nowhere, Shepard would go kill some geth, then he’d pull her ass out of the fire with some stellar flying, as usual.

 

It was a nightmare. He would wake up and this wouldn’t be real.

 

_Wake. Up._

 

When they helped him out of the escape pod, he was sure it was a dream. When Kaidan Alenko screamed at him, biotics flaring, demanding to know where she was, he was sure it was a dream. When David Anderson cried, he was sure it was a dream. The reporters shoved microphones in his face as he was dragged to the hospital. No reporter had ever wanted to talk to him. It was a dream. It had to be.

 

When morning arrived, relief flowed through him. He thought he had woken up. He thought it was over.

 

But it wasn’t over. He was awake, but the nightmare would never end.

 

_She shoved him forcefully into the escape pod. Just as he was about to bitch at her for the rough handling, the blast came._

_It flung her away from the pod, but he knew she would manage to get in. Nothing was impossible for her. And then he saw her hit that button._

_He screamed her name as the doors closed and another blast sent her flying. Through the window he saw her float away, one tiny person adrift among the wreckage of his baby, enveloped in the vastness of space._

_He cried her name until his voice was hoarse, pounded the door until both fists were broken. And then he did nothing, because he realized that it must not be real. It couldn’t be real._

 

He told himself it was a dream when he was debriefed by Admiral Hackett, when the therapist came. It was a dream when he relived it every night. He tried to stay awake, but the doctor gave him a sedative and it became a dream once more.

 

“I can fly,” he told Anderson, who only shook his head.

 

In one swift motion the Alliance took away the one thing that might have kept him going.

 

They wanted him to be okay, but how could he be? The galaxy wasn’t right without her.

 

Shepard was dead, and nothing would be okay again.

 

And it was his fault. She died because of him. Every night in his dreams, she died because of him.

 

Maybe, just maybe, if he believed it was a nightmare, he could wake up.

 

_Please wake up._

 

…


	23. Don't Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one has heard from the commander in hours since she boarded the ship, and they don’t know what to make of it. Do they disturb her or leave her alone? Beginning of ME2.

Joker called the commander over the comm. “Commander? We’re about fifteen minutes out from the Citadel.”

 

Only silence greeted him. He frowned slightly. This was unusual. “Commander?” he tried again, with no answer.

 

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. He reached out and pressed another button on the comm unit. “Miranda?” he asked.

 

“Yes?” The ice queen’s response was prompt and professional as always.

 

“ETA fifteen minutes to the Citadel. I tried to raise Shepard on the comm to tell her, but she isn’t answering. Thought you’d like to know.” If there was actually something wrong, Miranda would deal with it. It was her job after all.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Moreau, I’ll check on her,” she replied, letting Joker off the hook.

 

Joker, with nothing left to do until they docked, turned to his extranet terminal with a shrug. Whatever weirdness was going on was in Miranda’s hands now.

 

…

 

Miranda knocked on the door to the captain’s quarters for a third time, and let out a sigh. She wasn’t sure what to think of this.

 

On the one hand, Shepard had just woken up from a coma after two years and probably wanted some time to herself to think things over. On the other hand, Shepard had just woken up from a coma after two years, and something could be seriously wrong. It’s not as if Project Lazarus was a standard medical procedure.

 

And since Shepard had been woken before she was ready—and without proper stress testing—this silence was worrying.

 

The door was locked. Miranda was aware that EDI could unlock any door in case of emergency, but she was fairly certain that breaking into Shepard’s personal quarters was not a good way to begin their relationship, especially with the commander’s mistrust of Cerberus.

 

Miranda did have one other idea. This one certainly wouldn’t help her gain Shepard’s trust either, but, if done properly, Shepard would never have to know. She headed back to her office, a woman on a mission.

 

…

 

Miranda’s second idea fell through just as quickly as the first.

 

“The video surveillance of the captain’s quarters goes directly to Cerberus headquarters. With my current hardware blocks, even I do not have access,” EDI explained. “If you wish, I can contact the Illusive Man.”

 

Miranda sighed. “That won’t be necessary, EDI.” _At least not yet_ , she thought. “Just let me know if Shepard exits her quarters.” It had been less than an hour since Joker had tried to raise Shepard on the comm. If it continued to be a problem, then maybe she would have to involve the Illusive Man.

 

Until then, it looked like they’d be playing the waiting game.

 

…

 

“Where the hell is Shepard?” Jacob asked, entering Miranda’s office. “She told me to be ready to go as soon as we reached the Citadel. We’ve been docked for two hours already!” He was annoyed—he had better things to do than wait around.

 

Miranda dropped her chin into her hands. “Shepard is in her quarters, or so we assume. We can’t raise her on the comm, and the door is locked.”

 

Jacob raised a brow. “You think she’s alright in there?”

 

She shrugged wearily. “No idea.”

 

He crossed his arms. “Maybe we should go up there and find out.”

 

Miranda shook her head. “If we break into her quarters, Shepard will never trust us. Her trust is vital to the mission, Jacob.”

 

“Yeah,” he agreed, “But so is her life. I’m going up there. You can come if you want.”

 

Miranda rolled her eyes, but followed the soldier to the elevator. “If she gets angry, I’m making sure she knows it was your idea.”

 

…

 

Shepard stretched luxuriously and let out a satisfied sigh. The headache from hell was finally gone.

 

After lying in bed for a few more minutes, she headed to the shower, the heat sinking into aching muscles. They hadn’t been used for a while.

 

But she’d been trying not to think about that.

 

She put on her fatigues and headed to the door to go down and see Joker, ask him when they would get to the Citadel. She needed to see Anderson, get updated on a bit of galactic news, and stock up on supplies.

 

But when the door opened, she came face to face with Miranda and Jacob. “Um… hi?” she said questioningly, brow raised. What were they doing up here and why did they look so guilty?

 

Miranda’s expression changed immediately, first to relief and then annoyance. “Shepard! What the hell have you been doing in there? We couldn’t raise you on the comm. You’ve been locked up in there for hours!”

 

Shepard gave her a withering look. “I was _napping_ , Miranda. Don’t panic.”

 

The two Cerberus employees shared a look. “The whole time?”

 

Shepard rolled her eyes. “Yeah, the ‘whole time’. Now, can anyone tell me how far out we are from the Citadel?”

 

Jacob let out a laugh in disbelief. “We’ve been docked for hours, Shepard. We’ve all been waiting on you.”

 

Miranda shook her head, brow furrowed. “You napped since we got back from Freedom’s Progress? Nearly _twenty_ hours?” she asked incredulously. She shifted gears. “Are you feeling alright, Commander? Something could have gone wrong. You should get checked out,” she insisted.

 

Shepard put up her hands in protest. “I’m _fine_ , Miranda.” She paused. “Although I am pretty damn hungry.” She looked from Miranda to Jacob. “Know anywhere to get a good burger on the Citadel? I’m not up on the Citadel hot spots these days, for obvious reasons.”

 

Jacob just shook his head, laughing again. “We could hit up Zakera Café.”

 

“Sounds good,” the commander responded. “Be ready in five.”

 

With that, Shepard turned right back around to enter her quarters, and the two Cerberus employees were left staring at the door.

 

“Guess we should get geared up,” Jacob said with a smirk as they entered the elevator.

 

Miranda shook her head. “This is just the beginning, isn’t it?”

 

Jacob laughed. “Yep.”

 

…


	24. Tempest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard chooses her new name. Beginning of ME2.

“And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.” I looked up, setting the datapad to the side. “Tempest Shepard. What do you think?”

 

My fish, of course, did not answer.

 

“That was my mother’s idea of a bedtime story. I don’t understand it any better than you do. Never stopped her, though. She was as stubborn as I am.”

 

I glanced around the lonely room, cast in blue light from the tank holding the only companions I trusted, and sighed. “It’s funny, I never appreciated her quirks. Teenagers are stupid like that.”

 

I thought back through the changes in my life, a new name for each rebirth. After Mindoir, Sky. After Akuze, Ava. This time the rebirth was literal. Ironic, but not very funny. Somehow it had me thinking back to my roots, back to little Katherine Shepard, the ghost of myself that haunted my dreams. I would never be Kate again, but maybe I could find something to tie me back there. Something to remember.

 

I picked up the datapad again, reading those last few lines of Shakespeare’s masterpiece, my mother’s favorite. There had been many times in my life that I’d wished for her guidance, wondered what she would think of me, of what I’d become. No matter how much time passed, I still missed her.

 

With one more look around the lonely, empty room, I let out a sigh. “I sure wish she was here.”

 

…

 


	25. A Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus sees something that he knows is impossible. Hints towards Shepard/Garrus, early ME2.

It’s been days.

 

You don’t know how much longer you can hold out. You haven’t slept and have hardly eaten, your memory a blur of gunshots and enemies in scope. You were full of pain and rage, but now you are just tired. Tired and losing hope.

 

You can’t sleep even when it’s quiet, because it means they’re gathering their strength. They could be back at any moment. The next wave might be the one that kills you.

 

You aren’t sure if you care, to be honest.

 

You’ve been in hell for two years. You tried with C-Sec, you really tried. You wanted it to work. You wanted to believe in the system, to be the turian your father wanted you to be. You were working when you heard the news that changed everything, a moment you’ll never forget.

 

“Breaking News,” the voice said. There was always some kind of ‘breaking news’, and you were only half-listening. How could you have known that this broadcast would be the one to tear you apart?

 

“The Alliance SSV Normandy has been destroyed in a catastrophic accident, details to come. Most of the crew reportedly managed to escape, but many are still missing or presumed dead, including Commander Shepard, known for being the first human Spectre and hero of the Citadel during the geth attack several months ago. We will be providing more information as it becomes available.”

 

The news came like a punch to the gut, and breathing suddenly seemed impossible. The world was spinning, and for a second you thought you’d die along with her.

 

You had never thought this kind of news would hit you so hard. But you never expected to hear this kind of news.

 

You thought she was invincible.

 

You sent messages to her for days, hanging onto a desperate hope that maybe you’d get something back, ending this nightmare. You never got through. Officially, she was listed as missing-in-action, but everyone knew she had to be dead.

 

And with that, something in you snapped. The one person who gave you hope for some good out there was gone, and you just couldn’t do this anymore.

 

You left C-Sec to go out on your own, fighting any injustice you could find. You gathered your own squad, tried to be like her. You dreamed of her.

 

You dreamed of those awful rides in the Mako that she thought were so much fun. Of fighting side by side, of how she lectured you, of how she listened to you. You dreamed of her drifting through space, alone and dying, over and over, always out of your reach. She was always just out of reach when you needed her. You needed her.

 

It wasn’t all bad. You helped people, you fought injustice. You had moments with your team that felt like friendship. But you always felt an odd emptiness that you couldn’t displace. You never really felt like you made enough of a difference. You never really felt hope. And in the end you failed.

 

That failure led you to where you are now. Exhausted, hungry, and wondering how long you can hold on.

 

You stop yourself when you see a wave of mercenaries emerging again. There is no thinking. Scope, shoot. Reload. Repeat.

 

Then you see something that stops you cold.

 

You know this can’t be what it looks like. Your exhaustion must be playing tricks on you. But you know her so well that you can’t imagine it to be anyone else, even though you can’t see her face. You know that walk, the way she jerks her head to tell a teammate to take position. The way she shoots, the way she throws out those biotic fields in fluid movements that look more like dancing than when she actually tries to dance.

 

You’ve fought beside her enough to know her every movement, her every quirk. You watched her constantly, studying her when she didn’t know you were looking. You idolized her.

 

It doesn’t make sense because you know she’s dead. You are certain you are being idiotic, but you decide not to shoot her, or those two you see following her, the humans too clean to be true mercs. You’re probably going to die because of this, but, well, you’re probably going to die anyway.

 

As you take down other targets, the three of them disappear out of your sight, entering the building below you. You try to fight the hope you feel, but you can’t help it. You want it to be her so badly.

 

Before you realize it, the three of them are upstairs with you, and they help you dispatch the last of this wave of mercenaries.

 

You sit, exhausted, and turn to watch them. It _has_ to be her, doesn’t it?

 

She takes off the helmet, swinging that odd human mane of hair as she does. She looks straight at you with her eyes that look like a deep ocean. She’s here, in front of your eyes. Back from the dead. A ghost.

 

“Archangel?” she asks, and you realize—she doesn’t know it’s you.

 

You sit back and take off your helmet slowly, as if you are in a dream. “Shepard,” you say, your voice choked. “I thought you were dead.” Her eyes widen at first and then she smiles. Happy to see you.

 

As she explains the last two years, you are only half-listening because you are studying her every detail, making sure it’s really her. This is beyond belief, and yet, you can’t deny what’s right before your eyes.

 

You give her the short version of what’s happened here, and your plan to get out, now that you have backup. You feel hope for the first time—you may actually get out of here alive.

 

Two years you spent in hell without her, and she shows up on your doorstep just in the nick of time to save you. You almost laugh, because it’s exactly the kind of thing you shouldn’t be surprised to find her doing.

 

When you are forced to send her downstairs to block the back way in, you watch her until she disappears from sight. You can’t seem to get rid yourself of the feeling that this is too good to be true. She’s like a dream, a vision that will be lost forever once she gets out of sight. You can’t bear to lose her again.

 

But she does return. Real, not an illusion. The four of you are working together to finish off the last of the mercenaries when that gunship rises up. The last thing you see and hear is a blast, and then searing pain flows through you. You don’t have time to appreciate the irony that you are dying when she has just come back from the dead.

 

Fevered dreams are all that remain when you wake. Your face feels like it’s on fire, and it floods back to you, everything. You are lucky to be alive. You see Chakwas hovering over you and realize you must be on the Normandy. Shepard is alive, and here, on this very ship. You haven’t lost her.

 

Chakwas wants you to stay in bed, but you have to go see her. At your insistence the doctor gives you the pain medication you ask for, and you go searching.

 

You find her in the conference room, her eyes sparkling when they meet yours. You don’t remember when you felt this happy.

 

It’s good to be home.

 

…


	26. Holding Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard comes so close to telling him everything. Beginning of ME2.

_Frankly, Shepard, I’m more worried about you._

 

In the split second pause after his words, she almost told him everything.

 

She nearly told him of how she’d woken alone, confused, and in pain in a strange place. How easily Jacob had dropped the bombshell that she’d been dead for two years. How hurt she’d been when Tali turned her away. How alone she’d been on this ship, despite the presence of Joker and Chakwas.

 

How she was forced into a partnership with the very organization that had come very near to ending her life so long ago on Akuze, leaving her with scars that would never entirely heal.

 

But it was only a second’s pause.

 

“Cerberus, Shepard?” he added. “Do you remember those sick experiments they were doing?”

 

And the urge disappeared, buried down where she usually kept it. Where she couldn’t feel it.

 

_How could she forget?_

 

But she said none of those things. He had enough to burden him already.

 

“That’s why I’m glad you’re here, Garrus,” she said lightly. “If I’m walking into hell, I want someone I can trust at my side.”

 

He didn’t catch it.

 

Garrus, so observant, hadn’t noticed her moment of doubt, that split second of time that she had been so close to revealing everything.

 

Pain medication dulls the senses, she reminded herself, trying to feel relieved that he hadn’t questioned her.

 

After he left the room, she leaned over the table and sighed, wondering why a part of her wished that he had.

 

…


	27. Black Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her whole life was in that box. And it was on Alchera... she hoped. Early ME2.

Tempest Shepard stepped out of the shuttle cautiously, surveying the area around her.

 

Alchera wasn’t a friendly sort of place, and with the pieces of her ship scattered across the landscape, it had become absolutely haunting.

 

She had a few official tasks: Mark the placement of the Alliance memorial, and find any sign of her lost crew. 

 

There were a lot of casualties.

 

Alliance ID tags seemed to be the only signs of the fallen crewmen. She vowed to find every one of them if she had to stay on the planet the whole damn day.

 

As she explored, it seemed that every piece of the ship had a different memory attached to it. Going loose on regs in the mess hall and laughing with the crew. Standing behind Joker as they approached the Citadel for the first time. Tali getting motion sickness in the Mako.

 

Finding her old, battered helmet on the ground brought her back to reality. _I really died,_ she thought, still unable to truly comprehend the idea. The helmet seemed like it was from a lifetime ago, and in a way, it was. She felt as if she were looking at a ghost.

 

Finally she found the piece of wreckage she’d been searching for: the captain’s cabin. She could picture exactly where she’d left the large black case, but everything seemed to be shifted from the crash. If she couldn’t find it—well, that wasn’t a thought she wanted to finish. Everything she had was inside.

 

And there it was, half encased in ice. With a couple of well-placed stomps, she broke the box out and examined it closely. It had finally been put to the test, the item designed for something she had hoped would never happen. When she determined that it was still intact, she breathed a sigh of relief. The contents were safe.

 

On her way back to the shuttle, she finally picked a spot for that monument—in front of the wide expanse of ship with the name, Normandy, spread across it.

 

With a last look back at the wreckage, once the home and ship she loved, Shepard entered the shuttle to head back to another Normandy. _A new ship for a new life_ , she thought.

 

She didn’t say a word to anyone as she went up to her quarters, heavy black box in one hand, helmet in the other. The ID tags had been left on the main deck to be sent back to Admiral Hackett.

 

Once in the safety of her own room, she set down the helmet on her bedside table, focusing her attention on the box.

 

The combination, of course, was one she would never forget. 2166. The year her sister was born.

 

It took an effort to open, but when she did it was like reliving her life over again.

 

Alliance medals, her N7 training certification, a charred and battered rifle. Seashells. The tiny silver model of the Normandy that Kaidan gave her for her birthday. A holo of a ship. A stuffed monkey.

 

After looking at each item carefully, Shepard picked up her helmet and placed it inside, almost reverently.

 

She stared at the open box, looking thoughtful, before getting up to grab one more thing. She held a broken piece of blue armor in her hand, eyeing it carefully before putting it in.

 

With another look, she closed it. Her hands moved mechanically.

 

  1. Her sister’s birthdate.



 

…


	28. Wet Paint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda just doesn't understand the temptation. ME2.

“It’s spectacular,” Shepard said softly, gazing at the pulsating prothean sphere. There was something incredibly compelling about it.

 

Almost subconsciously, she reached out to touch its rippling silver surface.

 

“Commander, you probably shouldn’t—”

 

Miranda’s warning was too late. As Shepard’s fingers brushed it, the sphere collapsed into a small silver ball, crashing down to the ground below it.

 

Shepard went to pick it up, but Miranda grabbed her arm. “Relax,” Shepard said with a roll of her eyes. “It’s prothean, not reaper tech.”

 

Once they were on the shuttle, Miranda let loose. “What were you thinking, Commander? You had no idea what would happen when you touched it! It could have killed you, for goodness sake.”

 

Shepard leaned forward, still holding the intriguing silver ball in her hands. “Don’t you ever get the temptation, Miranda? It’s like seeing a wet paint sign. You just have to touch.”

 

Miranda looked at Shepard like she was crazy. Shepard sighed and shook her head. “Guess not.” She reached over and poked Miranda in the arm a couple of times.

 

“What the hell are you doing, Commander?” Miranda asked, disconcerted.

 

Shepard looked up at her with a slight frown. “Are you sure you’re human, Miranda?”

 

The Cerberus officer rolled her eyes. “Last time I checked, yes.”

 

Shepard was undeterred, poking her once more. “Maybe your should check again.”

 

“All right,” Miranda began, deciding something. She grabbed the silver sphere out of Shepard’s hands. “This is mine,” she said, brandishing it.

 

“Hey!” Shepard protested. “What was that for?” she demanded.

 

Miranda couldn’t hide a smirk. “Oh, I couldn’t keep my hands off it,” she told her. “Just like wet paint.”

 

Shepard glared all the way back to the Normandy, and Miranda couldn’t help but think she might end up paying for the fun she’d had with the commander.

 

As it turns out, she was very, very right.

 

“I’m sorry,” Miranda told the dancing girl as she stood awkwardly in the middle of Afterlife. “There is no party on the Normandy. I have to rescind the invitation.”

 

The dancer looked at Miranda blankly. “What does ‘rescind’ mean?”

 

…


	29. Everyone Loves a Bribe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda is tired of babysitting. ME2.

“We should have wiped her goddamn memory,” Miranda grumbles.

 

Jacob snorts. “Why’s that?”

 

She shoots him a glare. “Because she’s a damn drunk, Jacob.”

 

“Calm down, Miranda,” the Illusive Man warns. Jacob and Miranda both turn towards his hologram.

 

Miranda lets out a sigh. “She’s so traumatized that she’s one step away from losing her mind entirely, and she’s constantly causing problems on the ship. Have I told you about any of her ideas for ‘improving morale’, as she calls it?” she asks, hands on her hips.

 

Jacob tries to stifle a laugh. He knows what’s coming.

 

The Illusive man shakes his head. This seems like a waste of his time, but he’ll hear Miranda out. “What’s she doing?”

 

Miranda shoots Jacob a glare before continuing, and the man attempts to hide his amusement. “The other day she invited the dancers from Afterlife up to the ship. I actually had to go down there myself and rescind the invitation.”

 

Jacob can’t stop himself from laughing now, and Miranda shoots him another glare. “You think it’s funny, Jacob? Why don’t I send her your way next time she gets drunk and has one of her brilliant ideas?”

 

The Illusive Man interrupts. “As long as she’s doing her job, I don’t care what else she does. It’s _your_ job to deal with her. I’ll throw a bonus on your paycheck,” he tells Miranda. And with that, he cuts off the transmission.

 

Miranda lets out another sigh and looks at Jacob. “Next time she gets drunk I _will_ send her your way. And you better not be doing those stupid shirtless crunches because I know she’ll just come running back to me if you are.”

 

Jacob gives her an amused look. “Gotta keep up this hot bod, Miranda. Besides,” he tells her, “I’m not the one being paid to deal with her bullshit.”

 

If looks could kill, Jacob would be long dead by now. Miranda stomps out of the room and up to her office. As soon as she gets there, a chat request pops up.

 

_TempestuousShep: miri i just had this awesme idea plz write back!!!!!!!!!_

 

“Here we go again,” Miranda said to no one in particular.

 

It better be a _big_ bonus.

 

…

 


	30. Fish and Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her entire world had been turned on it’s head, he had to go and break her heart. Shepard/Kaidan, Shepard/Garrus friendship with a hint at future romance, mid-ME2.

Neither Grunt nor Garrus dared to say a word as they waited for Joker to pick them up from what was left of the Horizon colony. Shepard looked as if the slighted provocation would send her into a rage, and neither of them wanted to be on the receiving end.

 

While Grunt was still trying to work out the details of the encounter they’d had with Kaidan, Garrus understood all too well.

 

Garrus wasn’t certain how serious Kaidan and the commander were, but everyone knew that they had been in some kind of relationship before the destruction of the Normandy.

 

He hadn’t known Kaidan especially well—the man was very reserved—but now he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to. The way he’d treated Shepard was unthinkable. Garrus, as a turian, had far more reason to mistrust Cerberus than Kaidan did, yet he had given Shepard the benefit of the doubt.

 

Kaidan hadn’t listened to a word she said. He seemed angry at her for dying and for coming back, despite those events being outside her control. As if she hadn’t been through enough. Kaidan condemned Shepard without giving her a moment to explain. She deserved better than this.

 

She deserved so much better than this.

 

…

 

Shepard’s head was spinning as they boarded the Normandy. She felt as if she was moving in a haze. She couldn’t think, and she didn’t want to. She’d felt such relief when she saw him and then… She stopped that thought forcibly. She wouldn’t do this to herself, at least not until she was somewhere private.

 

Kelly called to her from the galaxy map, but Shepard ignored her as she slammed a fist onto the elevator button. The door closed, shutting everyone out, and Shepard breathed a sigh of relief. She just wanted to get to her room. If anyone tried to bother her, she wasn’t sure she could keep herself from throttling them.

 

She removed the pieces of her armor as she walked into the room, dropping them onto the floor haphazardly. She knew that she would later regret not cleaning them or putting them away, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care. Still in her bodysuit, she walked over to feed her fish, but something was wrong. Her fish floated lifelessly at the top of the tank, dead. All of them dead. Somehow, after all that had happened, that was the last straw.

 

“God-fucking-damn it!” she shouted, kicking the wall. She stalked around the room, throwing and smashing things until she had expended her energy. The room was a complete shambles by the end of her rampage, but she hardly even noticed the damage she’d caused.

 

It was time for a drink. She figured she could probably get to the bar on the crew deck without crossing paths with anyone if she was lucky, so she headed to the elevator with that idea in mind, certain that drinking to forget would make everything at least a little bit better.

 

She made it to the bar without incident, and pulled bottles from the shelf, piling them in her arms. With her cybernetic upgrades she seemed to have less of a reaction to alcohol than before, and she wanted to make sure that she didn’t remember a damn thing by the end of this. She poured herself a glass and downed it, silently toasting herself. _Here’s to me getting drunk off my ass._

 

…

 

Garrus was concentrating intently in the main battery when EDI interrupted his work. “Officer Vakarian?” she inquired, her blue interface popping up on the console nearby.

 

“What is it, EDI? I’m kind of busy,” he responded, trying to focus on the Normandy’s weapon systems.

 

“I believe it is important. It is about the commander,” she told him, and he finally looked up.

 

“Garrus, you are a close personal friend of the commander, are you not?” she asked.

 

His mandibles fluttered. “I guess you could say that,” he said, uncomfortable with where this conversation was going.

 

“You have known Shepard longer than anyone on the ship, excepting Doctor Chakwas and Flight Lieutenant Moreau.”

 

Garrus crossed his arms. “What’s your point?”

 

“After returning from the ground mission, the commander exhibited destructive behavior in her quarters, and is now drinking heavily in the crew lounge.”

 

“Are you worried, EDI?” Garrus asked curiously, cocking his head. Could an AI worry?

 

She didn’t answer his question outright. “It is abnormal for Commander Shepard to exhibit this kind of behavior.”

 

He snorted a laugh. “You’ve obviously never seen her on shore leave.”

 

“I have never heard of the commander deliberately causing property damage while on shore leave,” the AI replied.

 

His mandibles flared again, this time with concern. “What exactly did Shepard do?” he asked.

 

“Shepard’s usual protocol after returning from a ground mission is to carefully clean and stow her armor, but today she threw the pieces on the floor,” EDI explained. “Then she proceeded to yell obscenities while throwing various items around the room, breaking several objects. This went on for thirteen minutes.”

 

Garrus let out a sigh. That didn’t sound good. “Anything else?”

 

EDI’s interface popped up again. “It appears that part of her outburst was triggered by the death of her fish. She had not fed them.”

 

Garrus shook his head. It seemed absurd that something that small would set her off, but she _had_ seemed as if she were on the verge of losing it earlier. “On a ship this advanced, she doesn’t have an automatic fish feeder?” he muttered.

 

He took a deep breath. He had to help her somehow, but he was at a loss. He would have done nearly anything to have Tali or Liara there to fall back on—he was sure one of them would know what to do. They were female, after all. Surely one of them would be able to relate.

 

But neither of them were there and he was on his own. He decided to head to the lounge and check on her. He wouldn’t have any idea how to help if he didn’t get a feel for her state of mind.

 

She was slumped over the bar when he entered, drinking krogan liquor straight from the bottle. Not a good sign.

 

“Wanna drink?” she slurred when she saw him climbing onto the stool beside her. She held out her bottle to him unsteadily.

 

“Uh, no thanks, Shepard,” he replied uncomfortably. He shifted awkwardly on the stool. He had no idea what to say to her so he sat there silently, waiting for some great idea to occur to him. He wasn’t good at this.

 

“Fucking Cerberus,” Garrus heard her mutter. Shepard turned to him. “With my goddamn cyborg upgrades I gotta drink the krogan stuff to even get a buzz,” she groused, shaking the bottle of ryncol to emphasize her point.

 

“I think you’re a little more than buzzed,” Garrus responded. He’d have laughed if the situation hadn’t been quite so grim.

 

She kept on going, as if she hadn’t heard him at all. “And Mir-Miranda got rid of my scars, too!” she told him indignantly. “I liked them. They were mine.”

 

At that, Garrus did muster a small smile. “You liked them because they were yours?”

 

She nodded, grabbing onto the bar to steady herself when the movement dizzied her. “Yes.”

 

It made sense in an odd sort of way, he thought. His scars from the rocket were still fresh, but he’d gotten used to seeing them there. They’d become part of him.

 

He reached up and touched the bandage gingerly, but his reverie was interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. Shepard had thrown the now-empty bottle across the bar and was starting on a new one. “Two years, Garrus,” she said softly, staring across the bar to the opposite wall. “Shit.” She took a swig of the alcohol with a shake of her head. “S-seems like yesterday.”

 

And they’d come to the heart of the problem. It wasn’t just Kaidan, it was everything. She’d lost not only two years of her life, but two years of everyone’s lives. When she had come back, they had all moved on.

 

She turned to him. “Everyone left. Tali wouldn’t come with me. Kaidan hates me,” she told him, her voice sounding strained. “Anderson wouldn’t tell me where he was,” she confided.

 

She turned back to her drink. “Cerberus resurrected me and spent billllions of credits,” she slurred, “because they want me to save the galaxy.”

 

She laughed harshly, taking another drink. “How am I supposed to save an entire galaxy when I can- when I can’t even keep my fish alive?”

 

Garrus almost felt like laughing then, but held back. “It’s not the same, Shepard.” He felt like he was trying to have a rational discussion with a small child.

 

She shrugged morosely. “Doesn’t matter. My fish are still dead.”

 

Garrus eyed the bottle of ryncol in her hand, noticing that it was nearly empty already. “How many of those have you had?” he asked.

 

“Um…” she counted on her fingers. “Four?” she replied uncertainly, brow furrowed.

 

“Alright,” Garrus said decisively, sliding off the stool. “I’m cutting you off.”

 

“But I want to get drunk!” she protested, pounding the bottle on the bar.

 

“You _are_ drunk,” Garrus responded, taking it out of her hand. “Come on.”

 

He offered an arm to help her down from the stool, and she took it, stumbling into him and nearly knocking him over. She was more drunk than he’d realized.

 

With Shepard leaning heavily on him, he made his way to the elevator. Once they arrived at the captain’s cabin, he could hardly believe his eyes. EDI hadn’t exaggerated when she told him that Shepard had trashed the room. He carefully led Shepard towards the bed (dodging debris and glass shards on the way), and swept the bed clear with his hand, depositing her there.

 

“Get some sleep, Shepard,” he ordered. Surprisingly, she didn’t protest.

 

“Yes, sir,” she said with a half-hearted salute, her eyes already closed.

 

Satisfied that she would stay there, Garrus made his way back down to the crew deck, stopping in to see Chakwas before heading back to the main battery.

 

The doctor looked up when he walked in. “How can I help you, Garrus?”

 

“Shepard is going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, so I thought you could get something ready for her when she wakes up,” he explained.

 

Chakwas raised an eyebrow. “Bad day?” she asked.

 

“We ran into Kaidan Alenko down on Horizon,” he explained. “It… didn’t go well.”

 

“I see,” she said simply and let out a sigh. “I’ll make sure she’s well taken care of, Garrus. Thank you for warning me in advance.” She let out a small laugh. “Shepard is hell on wheels when she has a hangover. It will be nice to be prepared for once.”

 

He left her there and headed back to the battery, finally able to return to his work. But there was one more thing he wanted to do. “EDI?” he called, and her interface popped up at the main console.

 

“How may I be of service?”

 

He paced thoughtfully. “Are we heading back to the Citadel anytime soon? Or anywhere that sells fish?”

 

“I believe the Citadel was the commander’s next planned stop, Officer Vakarian.”

 

“Good.” Maybe his plan would work. “EDI, is it possible for you to somehow take control of the tank and feed Shepard’s fish?”

 

“I’m afraid not. The dispenser is entirely manual,” she explained.

 

Garrus shook his head. Cerberus spends billions of dollars to resurrect Shepard, goes to the extreme of putting an actual AI in their ship, and they can’t get an automatic fish tank?

 

He sighed. “Shepard is going to lose it if her fish die again.” He looked at EDI’s blue interface in annoyance. “Can’t you just…” He waved a hand, at a loss. “Remind her or something?”

 

“I can set a reminder on her omni-tool, if you would like,” the AI responded.

 

Garrus gave her a nod. “That sounds good. Just…” His mandibles flared subconsciously. “Just don’t let her know it was my idea.”

 

“As you wish.” EDI’s blue interface disappeared as quickly as it had popped up.

 

Garrus let out a sigh as he turned back to his work. He was going to a lot of trouble over these stupid fish.

 

He knew it wasn’t about the fish. It was about Shepard. He was going to a lot of trouble for her, and he wasn’t even sure she would want him to.

 

But who else did she have? She had been right when they talked at the bar, it seemed like everyone had abandoned her. He had to do something, and this seemed like the best he could do. He owed her, anyways—she saved his life back on Omega, after all. She deserved this, whatever he could give. Everything he could give. And he wanted to give it.

 

With that, he forcefully turned his thoughts back to his work so that they wouldn’t go elsewhere.

 

He was venturing into dangerous territory, and he knew better than to let it go on.

 

…

 


	31. Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looks at her with awe, admiration, and maybe even love. She wonders if that is enough. Shepard/Kaidan retrospective, ME1 through ME2.

The way he looks at you reminds you so much of the Captain all those years ago, during the short time that he let himself love you.

 

You see amazement, caution, and affection that can become love if given a chance.

 

Kaidan is so restrained that you can’t help wanting to get under his skin. You feel compelled to explore him, to discover his secrets and free him from the shackles of his past that hold him back. You sense that need in him and want to be the one to save him. You’ve always been told you had a hero complex.

 

You tell yourself to go for it, but part of you holds back, as if you are being disloyal to the Captain by wanting to be with someone else. If it were just sex, that would be different, but you want more. You’re aching to feel love again.

 

Kaidan’s gentle encouragement makes you feel safe. He considers things so carefully, calculating every move to avoid causing suffering. It almost seems as if he is incapable of being careless with your heart. You won’t be hurt again, you tell yourself. It isn’t like before.

 

In the middle of all of this, you run into the Captain on the Citadel. Your feelings for him come back in full force, as if all those years since you’d seen him were only a moment. He wants you, but he refuses to let himself have you. Nothing has changed. He rejects you before you can ask—he knows you too well to think that you wouldn’t try. But, deep within yourself, you know he’s right, and you have to move on. Even if it was all that kept you going during those dark days, what you had wasn't right and can never continue. You can’t be disloyal to someone who isn’t yours.

 

Kaidan is good, and Kaidan is kind, but most of all, Kaidan is _there_. He’s standing in front of you, cautiously offering his heart in exchange for your own. For the first time since the Captain, you want to try.

 

It's a bit strange that you are the one pursuing him when you aren’t even sure you can make good on your own offer. But somehow you instinctively know that he needs that encouragement, that he needs someone to tell him that this is okay and that they’re right there with him. He’s afraid to do this on his own.

 

He’s been hurt, too.

 

You both have to convince each other, and yourselves, that it won’t be like before. You need to be sure that you won’t be hurt again. And you are each so different from your previous loves that you come to believe it.

 

After hours of agonizing, weeks of hesitation, you finally allow yourself to love him—and that’s why your encounter on Horizon comes as such a shock.

 

You never thought him capable of hurting you, but it turns out you were wrong. He doesn’t even give you a chance. You wonder if he ever trusted you, or if you ever knew him the way you thought you did.

 

Your heart and your trust are broken again, and you are left alone to pick up the pieces of your life. You have no choice but to let go of Kaidan, just as you had to let go of the Captain years before.

 

And in the end, all of this leaves you to wonder one thing: Will it ever stop hurting?

 

…


	32. In A Dark Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to sleep, Shepard restlessly wanders the ship. Mid-ME2

With a frustrated sigh, Commander Tempest Shepard threw back the covers.

 

Sleeping wasn’t one of her strong suits.

 

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and ran her fingers through her rumpled hair. She glanced over at her computer. She didn’t feel like working just now, but she didn’t want to go back to bed either.

 

Still in her fatigues, she made her way to the elevator with no particular destination in mind. She was restless.

 

Too many things were troubling her. She was having the dreams again.

 

She had heard it said that no one ever forgets the smell of burning bodies. Though she had experienced it many times now, the smell always brought her back to Mindoir.

 

She dreamed of it, burning bodies, burning crops, explosives, and blood. And perhaps that was why she couldn’t sleep. She didn’t want to hear the screaming anymore.

 

The elevator doors opened onto the engineering deck. She headed towards the Normandy’s drive core and watched it for a while, blue and pulsating with power, the same power that was in her fingertips. And though it had its own sort of beauty, it could only distract her for so long.

 

She continued her restless wandering. She wouldn’t try the subdeck—waking a sleeping Jack was not something she wished to attempt—so she once again headed to the elevator. She chose the flight deck, wondering if Joker would still be up.

 

She didn’t know why she felt like talking to him—she didn’t even have anything to say. But still, she hoped that she might find him awake, that he would crack some joke and she would roll her eyes, pretending it wasn’t funny. This was the game they played.

 

There were people at their posts on the flight deck (there was always someone on duty), but everything was quiet and still, as if no one wanted to disrupt the silence.

 

During the day, it was never quiet on the flight deck—due in no small part to the presence of Kelly Chambers, who was constantly talking and laughing. It was almost eerie to see it so still and silent.

 

Shepard made her way towards the cockpit, but when she got there, she found Joker fast asleep in his chair. Shepard sighed softly, having no desire to wake him, but feeling quite alone.

 

A ship full of people, and she felt lonely.

 

Shepard returned to the elevator. Aside from the hangar bay, there was really only one place left to go.

 

The crew deck was likely to have someone awake and wandering around, but she really didn’t want to get roped into a conversation with Rupert about the merits of salarian recipes, or play twenty questions with some young crewman who would want to know if she _really_ flew a mako through a mass relay and did she actually hang up on the council.

 

But when she exited the elevator, the deck was quiet. Perhaps everyone really was sleeping. Miranda would be in her office, Kasumi and Samara would be in the observation rooms, Thane in life support, and, presumably, everyone else would be asleep in the crew quarters. They certainly weren’t out and about.

 

It was too bright in the mess hall. There wasn’t much meaning to night and day out in space, but the light was disconcerting, out of sync with her sleep cycle. She wouldn’t stay there. She didn’t want the glaring lights—she wanted peace.

 

Shepard looked towards the med bay, where slivers of the room were illuminated by light streaming in from the mess. She spent more time in that room than she wanted to already, Chakwas carefully checking her for wounds after each ground mission. No one liked visiting doctors, but for Shepard it always reminded her of waking up in the sick bay after Mindoir, seeing Captain Grant above her and realizing it wasn’t just a dream.

 

Her eyes strayed towards the main battery. It would be dark and quiet, and the thanix cannon had a low rumble, a vibration that she somehow found comforting. Perhaps the captain’s quarters were too quiet for her.

 

She headed up the steps and long walk to the main battery until the door opened and she saw the dim, quiet room laid out in front of her. She crossed the threshold, heading over to lean on the railing and look out over the Normandy’s weapon systems.

 

She heard the whoosh of the door closing behind her, and then silence. She closed her eyes, feeling the vibrations in the room traveling through her body. Her tension seemed to loosen, the weight on her shoulders feeling not quite so difficult to bear. She stayed like that for a moment longer, until she was interrupted.

 

“Um, Commander?”

 

Shepard whipped around in surprise to see an uncomfortable looking turian sitting on a crate in the corner of the room.

 

“What are you doing in here this late, Garrus?” she asked as soon as she’d regained her composure.

 

He gave her a strange look. “I sleep here, Commander.”

 

She looked around, only now noting the unobtrusive cot laid out for him. “You wouldn’t rather have a real bed in the crew quarters?” she questioned. “You don’t have to sleep here, you know.”

 

“I prefer it in here,” he told her. “Nice and quiet, less coming and going.” He stood up, setting down a datapad he’d been holding.

 

Garrus moved to stand beside her as she turned back to look out over the battery chamber. “But why are you here, Commander?” He took in her appearance, from bare feet to rolled-up fatigues to mussed hair. She had been in bed before coming here.

 

She let out the tiniest of sighs. “Couldn’t sleep,” she said, and didn’t meet his eyes.

 

“You too?” he replied, and she glanced over with a smile. The smile faded quickly, however, and she turned away from him again, closing her eyes as she leaned on the railing.

 

Garrus watched her, feeling a bit of concern. “You okay, Shepard?” he asked carefully, his tone lower and gentler than before.

 

She sighed again and gave him a quick glance. “Just have a lot on my mind.”

 

He had no doubt that was true. Shepard had already been through so much since Cerberus brought her back. She hadn’t been given time to come to terms with her death and coming back to life—she had been thrown into a new mission, and everyone she knew had changed so much in the time she’d been gone.

 

Garrus knew he certainly had.

 

And then there was the business with Kaidan Alenko. It still made him angry to think about the way Kaidan had treated her. Yes, she of all people would have a lot on her mind.

 

Garrus was about to ask if she wanted to talk about it when he realized she was watching him. A hint of a smile crossed her face. “You don’t actually sleep in that armor do you?” she asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without it.”

 

He let out a laugh. “No, I don’t sleep in the armor.” He had civvies, of course, but he was more comfortable in his armor, ready for anything that might happen. He was a worrier; that was his way.

 

She raised a brow at him. “Then I guess you weren’t planning to sleep anytime soon tonight, were you?”

 

He shrugged—he’d been caught. “No, I wasn’t.” He didn’t elaborate. He had no desire to tell Shepard about the things that were on _his_ mind.

 

“Get some sleep, Garrus,” she instructed, her voice gentle but firm. “I don’t want you crashing on the mission tomorrow.” Shepard fought against a sudden desire to stay awake and chat with him all night. She knew better than that. She was responsible for her crew’s well-being after all.

 

“Shouldn’t the same go for you?” he asked, and that hint of a smile appeared again, in spite of the tired look in her eyes.

 

“It’s my ship,” she said with a shrug. “No one can order _me_ to go to bed.”

 

“So that was an order, then?” Garrus asked, feeling amused in spite of himself.

 

Shepard’s smile grew. “If that’s what it takes.” She yawned, stretching her body lithely in ways that were alien to the turian. Watching her, an odd feeling rose up inside him. There was something strangely intimate about all of this.

 

“Let’s make a deal,” she compromised, her eyes back on him. “I’ll go to bed if you will.” She crossed her arms, but her eyes were sparkling. She was enjoying this.

 

Garrus couldn’t help being disarmed by her—she had a way doing so even at his worst. “Deal,” he agreed.

 

She smiled again, and turned to go. “Goodnight, Garrus,” she called softly as she made her way out of the room, her bare feet making no sound as she crossed the threshold and beyond.

 

Shepard took the elevator back to the captain’s cabin and laid down on the bed, staring up through her window to the stars. Her hair splayed out around her head as her blue eyes stared upward, enraptured by the pinpricks of light in the darkness of space.

 

At some point, she couldn’t say quite when, Shepard fell into a deep sleep. She didn’t even dream.

 

…


	33. Physical Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kelly thinks Shepard needs therapy, Shepard thinks Kelly needs to leave her alone. They find an interesting compromise. Mid ME2.

“Ah, Miranda, I’m glad you’re here,” Kelly said, entering the woman’s office.

 

Miranda looked up suspiciously. Kelly always had an ulterior motive, whether it was to psychoanalyze you or get into your pants. Either way, Miranda wasn’t in the mood.

 

She sighed. “I’m pretty busy right now, Kelly. Can it wait?”

 

“It’s about Shepard,” Kelly told her, still standing in the doorway.

 

Miranda motioned her inside with a second sigh, knowing she wouldn’t like whatever was coming. “What exactly do you need to discuss?”

 

Well,” Kelly began, seating herself. “I’ve been working on Shepard’s psychological profile, and what I’m seeing worries me. In spite of her attempts to appear in control in front of the crew, she is showing strong signs of mental instability.”

 

“So I’ve noticed,” Miranda stated dryly, resting her chin on her hand. “Your point?”

 

Kelly’s eyes were serious as she spoke. “I think Shepard needs regularly scheduled therapy sessions.”

 

Miranda shook her head, turning back to her terminal. “Your funeral.”

 

Kelly leaned across the desk. “Miranda, this is extremely important! Her mental state could endanger the mission.”

 

Miranda let out a mirthless laugh. “You don’t think I know that? I told the Illusive Man to wipe her memory! If you think she’ll talk to you, feel free to try, but I wouldn’t expect much.” She glanced over at Kelly and then back to her terminal. She really did have work to do.

 

The younger woman made no move to leave. “I’m going to need some help.”

 

Miranda’s voice had a tinge of snark when she spoke. “What kind? Should I sedate her and lock her in a room with you until she talks?” The woman didn’t even look up from her terminal.

 

Kelly laughed. “Nothing like that. I just need a few hours of her time where she can’t tell me she’s too busy.”

 

Miranda stopped typing and finally turned back to Kelly. “That, I can manage.” she said after a moment. “I’ll have EDI page you.”

 

Kelly stood. “Thanks, Miranda.”

 

Miranda watched the Yeoman as the door slid closed behind her. She didn’t feel optimistic about Kelly’s chances, but she hoped they might make some progress. Shepard could use the help.

 

_It certainly wouldn’t do me any harm either_ , Miranda thought wryly.

 

…

 

Shepard lounged back on the sofa, arms crossed. “No offense, Kelly, but you’re not my first therapist.”

 

“You need to talk, Shepard,” Kelly insisted. “It’s endangering your health, and it could endanger the mission as well.”

 

Shepard changed her stance, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “You don’t _really_ think this is going to make me talk, do you? You’re not exactly the most fearsome foe I’ve faced down.”

 

Kelly leaned forward too, an idea entering her mind. “I think you’re afraid to talk,” she challenged.

 

Just as Kelly expected, that had pissed the commander off. “Oh, I’m afraid because I don’t want to tell a _Cerberus_ employee about everything in my head?” Her volume rose with every word. “Call me paranoid, but don’t you _ever_ call me afraid.”

 

“Fine,” Kelly said, that challenging look still in her eye. “You’re paranoid, then. But I’m not going to back down until you talk to me. If I have do this every single day, I will. This mission is too important to be jeopardized by your mental state.” She paused, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she added, “I’m sure we can come up with some kind of compromise, Commander. I’m told you can be reasonable on occasion.”

 

Shepard stared her down, taking in Kelly’s set jaw and determined eyes. She quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe we can. Tell me, Chambers, do you have any combat training?”

 

…

 

“They’re for target practice, Kelly. They won’t actually hurt you,” Shepard insisted, noting the Yeoman’s nervous expression. “They might zap you a bit, toss out some flash bangs, but you’ll be fine.”

 

“Is there a reason you brought eight of them, Shepard?” the young woman asked, eyeing the drones carefully as she tugged at her light body armor.

 

Shepard raised a brow. “What, that too much for you?” She handed Kelly a rifle, who held it gingerly away from her body. Shepard rolled her eyes. “It’s concussive rounds only, Kelly. Stop being such a baby.”

 

“Now,” Shepard began, surveying the area around them. “There’s no one for at least a hundred miles, unless you count the Normandy—the planet’s hardly populated. If a word of what I say to you gets out, I’ll know.”

 

Shepard met Kelly’s eyes with a look of absolute seriousness and determination. “If that happens, Kelly, I _will_ hunt you down and you _will_ regret it.”

 

Kelly paled. “I’m a therapist, Shepard. I’m legally obligated to keep our talks confidential.”

 

“Good,” Shepard said shortly. “You remember that.” She pressed a few buttons on her omni-tool. “Now let’s get this thing started.” Eight combat drones rose from the ground.

 

Shepard and Kelly dodged, dove, and shot at the flying drones, and Shepard was having the time of her life. “Now this is what I call fun,” she called back to Kelly, cowering behind a large rock.

 

“Quid pro quo, Shepard!” Kelly yelled, popping up from behind the rock to take a shot.

 

“What?” Shepard asked, shooting Kelly a puzzled look over her shoulder.

 

Kelly shook her head. “Give something, get something. I’m doing what you wanted. Time to talk.”

 

Shepard dodged a shot, rolling behind one of the crates she’d brought for cover. “When I was sixteen my parents and baby sister were killed,” she yelled, panting. “Batarian slavers. Of course, you know that already.” She met Kelly’s eyes as the yeoman’s head peeked out of cover again.

 

Calmly, Shepard shot a drone off to her right, never breaking eye contact. “I ran away into the woods that morning because my parents were going to send me to biotic training. When I finally decided to head home, the fields were burning and everyone was screaming. People were being dragged away, beaten, set on fire. An Alliance soldier grabbed me before I got noticed. The last thing I heard before the soldier took me away was my mother screaming.”

 

Shepard stood, firing off a few shots before running straight for Kelly and diving over the rock to land behind cover just in time to avoid a flash bang grenade. Kelly was still in shock when Shepard grabbed her arm, pulling Kelly around to meet her eyes, their faces now only inches away.

 

“Everyone thought I was some kind of big goddamn hero for surviving the attack, even more so after Akuze. They gave me a fucking medal for not dying. You want to know the truth?” Shepard reached up to fire off a couple shots before continuing. “I survived the attack because I was a bratty teenager. My last words to my mom were about her wanting to get rid of me. I’ll never forget that look in her eyes when I ran.”

 

Shepard loosened her grip on Kelly for a moment before pulling her back. “You’re going to get more than you bargained for, Chambers. You want the truth, I’ll give it to you.”

 

With that, Shepard let go of the Yeoman and ran out of cover firing. Kelly took a moment to catch her breath, then ran after her, catching up to her behind a tree.

 

“I’ll take whatever you can dish out, Shepard,” Kelly said fiercely.

 

Shepard gave the younger woman a penetrating look. “Just descriptions of Mindoir after the attack broke stronger marines than you, Kelly.”

 

Shepard gave Kelly a nod, and the two of them leaned out of cover to dispatch a couple of approaching drones. When they stepped back into cover, Kelly met Shepard’s eyes. She was determined, and she wouldn’t back down. “I’m going to try, Shepard. You deserve that much.”

 

Before Shepard could respond, a buzzer went off and the drones powered down. Shepard turned to the Yeoman, who was catching her breath. “Time’s up, Chambers.”

 

Kelly nodded. “Same time, same place. One week from today,” she firmly told Shepard.

 

“Sure,” Shepard responded. “You did pretty well. I think I’ll bring a couple extra drones next week.”

 

With that, Shepard turned to grab a crate to drag back to the shuttle. Kelly stared after the commander, shaking her head. Kelly had no idea what to expect next from Shepard, but there was one thing she knew.

 

It certainly wouldn’t be boring.

 

…


	34. If You Need Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His words meant more to her than either of them realized. Shepard/Garrus, mid-late ME2.

_I’ll be here if you need me._

 

It was such a simple statement, but after all Shepard had been through, those words meant more than she could have ever imagined they would.

 

After losing two years of her life she was thrown back into it as if she should be able to immediately reconcile and go on as she always had—there was a galaxy to save, after all. She wanted to yell and scream that everyone expected too much of her and that she was just one person, one rather unstable person at that, but there was no one to say it to, not really.

 

Those who she had depended on were gone, and those who wanted her trust were unworthy of it. She missed him. She missed all of them.

 

When Archangel removed his helmet to reveal a friendly face, someone she knew and trusted, it was the first time she’d been truly happy since she came back from the dead. He didn’t fight her, didn’t question her or judge her. He was right behind her, putting his trust in her implicitly, backing her no matter what, like he always had.

 

She didn’t understand how rare that was at first, not until so many of the others turned her away. When Kaidan rejected her without even giving her a chance to explain herself, her faith in everything was so shaken that she wasn’t certain she could put it back together.

 

But in the wake of that, there was one person who was always there. Her trust in so many people had been broken, but he’d always kept his small promise.

 

_I’ll be here if you need me,_ he said. He always was.

 

…


	35. The Most Dangerous Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and her team fight an unforgettable battle. ME2.

“On your four, Grunt!” Shepard cried, diving behind a crate just in time to miss the projectile fired her way. She panted, and grinned, watching the krogan turn to attack his target. She loved this.

 

She peered out of cover, eyes searching the cargo bay. The sniper was out there somewhere. She just had to find him. She glanced over at Grunt and then at Zaeed. They were holding their own just fine. Grunt was marching around with a shotgun laughing, and Zaeed was firing at his own target. The old merc grunted in satisfaction as one of his bullets hit its mark.

 

Shepard brought herself back into focus. Sniper. She had to get him. It was a matter of honor. She thought she saw movement at the far end of the cargo bay. Maybe she could flank him if her teammates held his attention.

 

She glanced at the next crate over. She was pretty sure he knew where she was, but she figured she could make it in and out of cover fast enough. She shot over, making towards the other crate, but her breath was knocked out of her before she could reach it. She doubled over, bright red splattering across her stomach.

 

“Shit,” she heard someone say, and no more shots were fired. As she righted herself, she saw Garrus rushing over, rifle clattering to the ground.

 

“Shepard!” he called. “You okay?” A crowd was forming around her now. She looked up to see not only Garrus, but Jacob, Grunt, Zaeed, and Jack hovering over her—all covered in colorful splatters except for Garrus, the bastard.

 

She straightened up and stretched. “It’ll bruise, but I’m fine,” she assured them, and shook her head at Garrus. “That thing packs a hell of a punch, Vakarian.”

 

Assured of her safety, he now smirked, crossing his arms. “Price of losing, Commander.”

 

Shepard looked around. Sure enough, Zaeed and Grunt—particularly Grunt—were more marked than Jacob and Jack, and she’d gotten one hit to Garrus’s none.

 

She let out a huff. “Fine. You win this time,” she conceded. Jack and Jacob actually high-fived at her words. She rolled her eyes. “You’d think you were getting more than a round of free drinks,” she muttered.

 

“Alright,” she said to the group. “Get yourselves cleaned up. We’ll meet up at Dark Star in an hour.” The team slowly made their way towards the elevator.

 

Her eyes met Garrus’s and narrowed. “I’ll get you next time, Vakarian.”

 

His self-satisfied look never wavered. “Keep telling yourself that, Shepard. One day it might be true.”

 

…

 

“Shepard,” Miranda greeted tersely. The operative already sounded disapproving, and the lecture hadn’t even started. Her eyes met the Commander’s levelly. “Would you like to explain to me why the cargo hold is a complete disaster? Or why _someone_ requisitioned Cerberus funds to purchase a full array of paintball guns?”

 

Shepard stared back into her XO’s scolding eyes and said the only thing she could think of. “Morale?”

 

…


	36. Wasted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard is drunk and Miranda calls for backup. Slight Shepard/Garrus implications, ME2.

“Shepard, you are not going into battle drunk.” Miranda’s hands were on her hips as she watched an intoxicated Shepard attempt to put on her armor.

 

When the door behind her opened, Miranda turned and breathed a sigh of relief. “There you are.”

 

Tali surveyed the situation as she entered, and Miranda explained. “She thinks she’s going back to Omega to kill all the mercenaries she can find. Single-handedly.” She sighed. “I was hoping you or Garrus could talk her down. You know her better than I do.”

 

Tali looked at Miranda, surprised. “Oh, Keelah, we can’t let Garrus see her like this.”

 

Miranda glanced down to the oblivious commander, still trying to figure out her armor, and then back to Tali. “Do you have a better idea?”

 

Tali cocked her head, and then crouched down beside Shepard. “Let’s go down to the weapons locker so you can get your gun. We’ll figure out the armor later.”

 

Miranda looked at Tali like she was crazy, but the quarian waved her off. She had a plan.

 

Shepard pulled herself to her feet using Tali’s shoulder. “Thankss Tali, I’mma show those bat- batarians who’s boss.”

 

The two of them walked the commander to the elevator, Miranda shaking her head all the while.

 

Tali helped Shepard towards the med bay while Miranda walked behind, shooting glares at anyone who looked their way. A look from Miranda was enough to shut anyone up.

 

Besides, a drunken commander wasn’t exactly a one-time occurrence on this vessel.

 

“Talizzorah,” Shepard slurred as they entered, “Does Chakwas have my gun?”

 

“No, Shepard,” she’s going to give you a little something extra to help you out,” Tali supplied. Chakwas gave the quarian an inquiring look.

 

Miranda, realizing Tali’s plan, turned to the doctor. “How strong of a sedative do you have?” she whispered.

 

Chakwas shook her head, but went to rummage through her cabinet, returning with a small vial. She injected it into Shepard’s arm with a scientific-sounding excuse that Shepard took without question. Before long, the commander was out cold, and Miranda and Tali both breathed a deep sigh of relief.

 

“I’m going to go up to Shepard’s quarters and put away her armor,” Tali told Miranda, who nodded in acknowledgement.

 

As Tali slipped out, Miranda’s attention returned to the commander, now sprawled across one of the med bay’s cots. “What a waste of raw talent,” she said softly, with a shake of her head.

 

As she moved to go, Chakwas spoke up. “Not yet, Miss Lawson.”

 

Miranda turned, and the doctor met her eyes. “When the reapers come and she doesn’t save us, then you can call her a waste. But not yet.”

 

Miranda looked at her keenly before returning to her office to think over her words.

She only hoped that the doctor was right.

 

…


	37. Interspecies Food Critics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Normandy crew has a midnight snack and makes fun of each other’s food. ME2.

“That looks absolutely disgusting,” Jack announced, staring at the plate in front of Garrus Vakarian.

 

The turian looked up at her. “The first meal I have on this ship that doesn’t come out of a rations packet, and I have to deal with _you_ while I eat it. Figures,” he commented dryly.

 

The human gave him the finger on her way to the fridge. “Go fuck yourself, Garrus.”

 

“Charming as ever,” he replied, unfazed, and turned back to his food. He cocked his head, attempting to look at it from an outsider’s perspective. Sure, the meat was a different color than what the humans were used to, but it was still meat. Nothing wrong with that. And the little fish on the side were no weirder than those pinkish things _they_ ate. Shrimp, they were called. He was proud of himself for remembering. He’d seen Alenko eat them once, when they’d all been on shore leave together.

 

Footsteps from the hallway distracted him from his food-induced reverie. “Breakfast, Jack?” Shepard asked, sounding amused as she approached. “It’s the middle of the night.” She moved toward the biotic, shooting Garrus a small smile as she leaned on the wall next to where Jack was cooking.

 

Jack rolled her eyes as she poured the carton of liquefied egg into the pan. “No shit,” she shot back. “Or else Rupert would be making the damn food.”

 

“Make me some eggs while you’re at it?” Shepard requested with a smile, clearly knowing what her reception was likely to be.

 

Jack shot her a disdainful look. “Fuck, Shepard, make your own damn eggs.” Garrus sliced through his steak with the edge of a talon, watching the show in interest. Jack and Shepard were always entertaining when together. The commander enjoyed baiting the younger biotic.

 

Shepard cocked her head to the side, giving Jack an appraising look, and spoke. “Look, I’ll make you some bacon if you do the eggs,” she suggested, moving towards the fridge. “I’m pretty sure I saw bacon in here,” she added, poking through the freezer.

 

“It’s not even real bacon,” Jack grumbled over the stove.

 

Shepard looked over her shoulder at Jack, brow raised. “And you’re telling me those are real eggs?”

 

Garrus, watching the exchange, shook his head. “I don’t get you humans and your obsession with eggs,” Garrus commented from the table. “Why can’t you just wait and let it grow into meat?”

 

Jack made some kind of annoyed huffing sound, but Shepard just laughed, pulling the bacon out of the freezer. “Don’t turians like variety in their food?” she asked, moving to the microwave. “It’s a totally different flavor and texture,” she argued. Garrus just shrugged.

 

“Hey, no fair!” Jack interrupted, looking over at Shepard. “I’m standing here cooking you some fucking eggs at the goddamn stove, and all you had to do was nuke the bacon?” She whacked Shepard with the spatula in her hand.

 

Garrus frowned slightly, watching them. His translator was obviously glitching out somehow. Shepard was clearly not bombing the bacon. But his translator often seemed to glitch around Jack. He’d already had to download two separate add-ons for explicit phrases to make sense of her.

 

Shepard grinned and gave Jack a shrug. “It’s better this way. When I cook, disasters happen. Things catch on fire, people get poisoned…” She paused to open the microwave. “So just be glad I didn’t actually offer to cook.”

 

Jack grumbled, but she must have been in a better mood than usual since she still shared her eggs with Shepard. Before long, both of them were at the table with Garrus, intently focused on all but inhaling their midnight breakfast. He often wondered how Shepard managed not to choke on her food with the speed she seemed to eat.

 

After a few minutes of silence, Shepard nodded towards the plate in front of Garrus. “How is it?” she asked.

 

“Good,” he answered between bites.

 

“Good,” she said decisively. “It better be the best damn thing you’ve ever eaten considering how much I paid for it.”

 

Though it _was_ pretty good, Garrus couldn’t truthfully agree to that statement, so he just stuffed another bite into his mouth. Maybe she would keep buying real turian food instead of the crappy ration packets that he’d originally been supplied with.

 

While they were still munching away, another set of footsteps padded in. “Keelah!” came Tali’s voice from the doorway. “Is that xemna steak?” she asked excitedly, pointing towards Garrus’s plate.

 

Garrus couldn’t help smiling at her excitement. “There’s more in the fridge,” he told her, and she made a beeline for it immediately.

 

“What the fuck…” Jack said under her breath, watching the quarian bounce around excitedly in the kitchen. They all looked on as Tali pulled out her personal blender—labeled with her name and everything, thanks to Shepard—and ran the meat through it. A damn waste, Garrus thought, but there wasn’t really a better way for the quarian to eat it. He couldn’t grudge her some decent meat, even if she did bastardize it first.

 

And then they all saw the tired-looking human step out from right around the corner. “What exactly is going on here?” a yawning Miranda asked, placing her hands on her hips. She seemed to be doing her best to appear commanding despite the odd situation.

 

“Aw, did we wake the poor cheerleader up from her beauty sleep?” Jack snarked in her direction, earning herself a short glare.

 

Shepard volunteered an answer as she took her plate back into the kitchen. “Midnight snack party,” she stated, placing the dishes in the sink. She glanced at Garrus and winked, trying to hide her smirk as she added, “You know, for morale.” Garrus tried not to laugh.

 

_For morale._ Miranda’s least favorite two words. Shepard had used them to explain away every single crazy idea she’d had since boarding the Normandy, from double-stocking the bar, to silly string fights (whatever silly string was), to inviting the Afterlife dancers up to the Normandy.

 

“Forget I asked,” Miranda said, pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing. “Just try to keep it down.”

 

“Wait,” Shepard called, as Miranda turned to go back into her room. She grabbed something from under the counter. “Protein bar?” she offered. It was the first thing any of them had said that hadn’t made Miranda grimace. She nodded, and caught the one Shepard tossed at her before heading back into her quarters.

 

Garrus had to remember that one if he ever ran into an angry Jack or had an argument with Shepard. _Note to self: subdue biotic humans with food._

 

Shepard turned towards the table. “Jack?” she called. “Protein bar?”

 

“Hell yes,” Jack answered, and Shepard tossed her one as well. The commander stood next to Tali in the kitchen as she munched on her own.

 

Garrus looked from Shepard to Jack and shook his head. “You two eat a lot for being so little.”

 

Jack’s head jerked up from her protein bar and she shot him a glare. “Hey, I’m not little, asshole.”

 

Garru’s didn’t deign that with a response, but Shepard let out a laugh. “Biotics, Vakarian. That says it all.”

 

With that, Shepard started moving towards the elevator. “Well, at least we can all agree on the importance of midnight snacks… even if that’s the _only_ thing we can agree on,” she said with a grin. “Same time tomorrow?” she suggested, and disappeared around the corner.

 

Tali sat down at the table, and Jack gave her xemna smoothie a look of utter disgust. “That looks fucking gross,” the biotic announced, and Garrus stood, shaking his head. He was just… done.

 

There was only so much Jack he could take—especially if he was going to see her tomorrow night, after all.

 

…


	38. Truth and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard doesn’t stop him, and he doesn’t understand why. Shepard/Garrus, mid-ME2.

She tried to convince him not to shoot Sidonis, but her words sounded half-hearted, even to him. When it came down to it, she stepped aside and let him take the shot without protest.

 

When they’d met back up after the incident, she gave him a businesslike nod, and got into the shuttle without a word. It didn’t bother Garrus, he’d wanted some time to himself anyway, but he knew it wasn’t like her. She was silent the entire ride back to the Normandy.

 

Once they boarded the ship, he headed to his place in the main battery, knowing she would seek him out eventually. She always did, whether he wanted her to or not.

 

When he heard the door glide open behind him, he knew it was her. “Do you have time to talk?”

 

He turned from the terminal and gave her a shrug. “Just running some standard checks. It can wait.”

 

She moved closer, and the door slid closed behind her. “About earlier,” she began, but he cut her off.

 

“You don’t need to worry about me, Shepard,” he assured her. “This is over. It won’t be a problem again.” It hadn’t given him the satisfaction he’d hoped for, but he’d seen it through. He hoped the spirits of his team could rest easy now that Sidonis had died for his crimes. He hoped that _he_ could rest easy now, though on that account he wasn’t so sure.

 

Shepard, who was usually so astute, didn’t notice any of his uncertainty, or at least didn’t acknowledge it. All she did was give him a quick nod and look away.

 

Watching her, Garrus spoke. “I was wondering something,” he began hesitantly, and Shepard sunk into a listening stance, arms loosely crossed and weight balanced back on one leg. He cleared his throat uncomfortably before continuing. “Why didn’t you try to stop me?”

 

She met his gaze levelly. “I told you not to kill him.” She wasn’t lying—not outright—and yet Garrus knew her too well to believe what she implied.

 

He took a step towards her, beginning to feel angry at her lack of honesty. “You and I both know that you weren’t really trying. I know you too well to have expected anything but a fight, but you barely put up a front of resistance,” he argued. His eyes bored into hers.  “I want to know why.”

 

“You want to know the truth.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, but Garrus answered it as one.

 

“Yes,” he said simply, his eyes never leaving hers.

 

She broke their gaze first, moving to the railing that separated them from the rest of the battery chamber. She stared out over it as she finally answered, her voice level and emotionless. “Because I know what it’s like to want revenge.”

 

Her fingers gripped the railing harder as she continued in an eerily calm voice. “Garrus, if I knew where the slavers were that killed my family, I would hunt them down and make them suffer.” Her words shocked him. She had always been an advocate for sticking to the rules, doing the right thing no matter the circumstance. She demanded as much from her team, or had until he’d asked her to step aside and let him shoot.

 

She took a deep, shaky breath before she continued, her emotions beginning to creep into her voice. “Every time I kill a slaver or a mercenary, it feels a bit like revenge,” she confessed. “Even more so if they’re batarian,” she spat out bitterly, and he knew how hard it was for her to admit it. She always made such a point of fairness, of giving everyone a chance. This was so unlike everything he knew of her—everything _anyone_ knew of her.

 

Garrus practically held his breath as he waited for her to continue. “I envy you, Garrus,” she told him as she turned towards him, her eyes filled with defeat, regret, and longing. “Whether you call it justice or revenge, you’ve got closure that I’ll never find.”

 

Garrus opened his mouth, feeling as if he should say something, yet fumbling to find anything to say. “For what it’s worth, Shepard, I—I’m sorry.”

 

She didn’t respond, but took a few steps towards him, looking him in the eye. “So now you know,” she said simply. “I couldn’t take from you the thing I want so badly myself, no matter how wrong.”

 

She put a hand on his shoulder as she moved to walk past him. “Maybe I failed you,” she said softly, looking at him as she passed. “If I did, I’m sorry.”

 

Her hand slid from his shoulder, and Garrus turned to watch her walk away. He stared after her until the doors shut behind her, closing him in with his own thoughts.

 

He wasn’t sure how to process this.

 

She wasn’t as perfect as he’d thought she was. And while it was difficult to stomach, this realization wasn’t as world-shattering as it could have been. He had already learned, two years ago, that she was not invincible.

 

What was harder to believe was that she had spoken of this at all.

 

Though she could make nearly anyone pour our their thoughts and emotions to her, she rarely opened up about herself. She hardly ever spoke about her past or her feelings, deflecting questions and delving into the problems of others to avoid talking about her own.

 

A variety of emotions warred within him. Sadness, for how much pain Shepard had suffered in her life. Gratitude, that she’d allowed him to make his own decision about Sidonis. Pride, that he’d been the one chosen to share her confidence. But that wasn’t all.

 

Something else within him struggled to be named and defined, a feeling that he’d purposefully pushed aside again and again became he _knew better_ , damn it.

 

He pushed it aside one more time and turned back to his terminal, eager to focus his thoughts on firing algorithms and launch sequences, anything but her.

 

Anything but her.

 

…


	39. Group Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard decides that something has got to be done about all these daddy issues. ME2.

Jacob Taylor finished cleaning the rifle in his hands and checked the clock on his omni-tool. Perfect timing.

 

He strolled into the conference room where most of the team was already gathered, milling about and whispering to each other. He sidled up to Garrus, who was leaning on the table. “Hey, G,” he greeted. “Any idea what’s going on?”

 

The turian shrugged. “Shepard didn’t tell me anything except to be here.”

 

Jacob raised a brow. “She didn’t tell you?”

 

“Why would she?” Garrus replied unflappably.

 

Jacob gave the turian a look, but didn’t answer the question. If Garrus wanted to pretend they all didn’t know about him and the commander, well, that was his business.

 

Everyone looked up when the door opened again to see Commander Shepard striding purposefully inside with the always-chipper Kelly Chambers on her heels.

 

“Lock the door, Chambers,” Shepard said over her shoulder. Silence fell, and Shepard looked around, scrutinizing her team.

 

“Commander?” Miranda ventured, arms crossed. “Would you mind telling us what this is about?” She looked irritated—it wasn’t standard procedure to leave the XO out of the loop, but Shepard often liked to circumvent standard procedures.

 

Shepard smiled. “I’ve gathered you all here so that we can do something that needs to be dealt with before we pass through the Omega 4 relay.” She paused, looking around. “Group therapy.”

 

Chaos broke out, people all talking at once.

 

“What the fuck, Shepard!” Jack yelled, stomping around the room.

 

“This is unnecessary,” Miranda asserted with a firm shake of the head.

 

Jacob snorted. “A waste of time is what it is.”

 

Grunt looked displeased. “This delays battle,” was all he said.

 

Zaeed shook his head from where he sat, arms crossed and feet up on the table. “I’m not gonna sit here and bullshit about how somebody’s parents never goddamn loved ‘em.”

 

Shepard simply crossed her arms and waited for the complaints to die down. When an uneasy quiet fell over the room, she spoke. “Any _other_ objections?” she asked. Not one word was spoken, though if looks could kill, Shepard might have needed another Lazarus Project. “It seems like every single damn person on this ship has one kind or another of daddy issues, and we’re going to deal with them right now.” No one spoke up, most beginning to look resigned to their fates.

 

“Well, then,” she said cheerfully. “Let’s get started.” She paused, looking towards the corner of the room. “Kasumi, stop cloaking. You’re not getting out of this that easily.” The thief materialized, crossing her arms and pouting.

 

Kelly Chambers looked like she was ready to start, being the resident therapist, but Shepard cut her off. “Let’s go through the room and get all the issues out in the open, then figure out how to solve them, okay? I think I’ll start with…” She trailed off, looking around the room. People shuffled their feet, looked at their omni-tools, stared into space… anything but meeting those eyes and being forced to go first. “Grunt, you’re up,” she said decisively.

 

The krogan looked less than impressed, but allowed Shepard to speak. “So, Grunt,” she began, “You were created by Warlord Okeer, who had rejected hundreds of krogan before you for being imperfect. He expected perfection from you, and died before he could give you any instruction outside the tank.”

 

Grunt was unmoved. “The perfection is in my blood. It is who I am.”

 

Shepard raised a brow. “Right… moving on, then.” She looked to Mordin, who was standing next to Grunt. “Mordin? Got any daddy issues?” she asked.

 

Mordin was quick to answer. “Salarians do not bond with paternal figure in the same way as most sentient species. Salarians do not have what you would call daddy issues,” he explained in quick succession.

 

Shepard turned to Samara, who spoke up in her peaceful way. “You need not worry, Shepard. I have no qualms with either parent, both of whom are long passed by now.”

 

Shepard raised a brow. “You may not have issues with your parents, but you have parenting issues. Having to hunt down your own daughters?” she suggested. “I think that’s a pretty obvious call for some family therapy sessions.”

 

Next was Kasumi, who politely refused to answer, and Zaeed, who less-than-politely refused to answer.

 

“Jacob,” Shepard addressed. “Dad went MIA for a decade, came back crazy and slightly evil. He wasn’t there to help you grow up.”

 

Jacob looked unmoved. “Dealt with it, Shepard. Don’t need therapy.” Shepard just looked at him and shook her head.

 

Shepard’s eyes turned to their geth companion. “You’re exempt,” she told him, and annoyed sighs went out from several others who thought _they_ ought to be exempt as well.

 

“Thane,” Shepard addressed. “You’re in the same boat as Samara. You’ve got a hell of a lot of issues with your kid that you need to deal with.”

 

“You have helped me with them, Siha,” the drell replied. “My son and I are communicating.”

 

“Still,” Shepard pressed, “We should talk about it.” With a nod from Thane, she moved her attention to Jack.

 

“Well, Jack,” she addressed the girl, who only scowled at her, “It seems daddy issues are about the only issues you don’t have.”

 

“So can I be excused like flashlight over here?” she asked bluntly, jerking a thumb towards Legion.

 

Shepard crossed her arms. “No. I think you’ll benefit from some therapy.”

 

Jack glared, and muttered something involving several colorful expletives.

 

“Tali,” Shepard called next. She shook her head slightly. “You spent your whole life trying to live up to your dad’s reputation, desperate for his love and approval,” she explained. “Then, you found out just how much he loved you by a project that ended in disaster, his death, and nearly exile for you.”

 

Tali dropped her helmet into her hands in obvious embarrassment. “Big one,” Shepard muttered.

 

Her eyes moved to Garrus, and she shrugged. “Pretty much what I told Tali, minus the disaster and exile part.”

 

All he did was shrug back, and Shepard moved on.

 

“Oh, Miranda.” Shepard let out a sigh and shook her head. “You’ve just got the motherlode of daddy issues, don’t you?” she asked rhetorically.

 

“Shepard,” Miranda started urgently, “Now is not the time or the place—”

 

“Father spliced you together from his own cells,” Shepard talked over her, “Designed you to be perfect and judged you constantly.” Miranda glared as she continued. “He was so angry when you ran away that shots were fired. He tried to replace you with another little clone, and you took her from him too, forcing you to Cerberus for protection for yourself and your sister because he’ll always be pursuing you.”

 

At this point, everyone was staring at Miranda, wide eyed. Miranda’s glare would have terrified anyone who wasn’t Commander Shepard, but all Shepard did was shake her head.

 

“I hate you so much right now,” the woman muttered.

 

Shepard ignored her, moving on. “Now then,” she began. “We figure out how to deal with these problems.” She paused for a moment to think, and looked slightly overwhelmed. She realized she might not be quite up to the task.

 

This crew had a _lot_ of daddy issues.

 

It was at this point that Kelly Chambers hesitantly jumped in. “Commander?” she asked. “What about you?”

 

“What about me?” Shepard questioned, confused.

 

“Your daddy issues,” she explained. “We haven’t addressed them.”

 

“Oh,” Shepard said, waving her off. “I don’t have parents. No daddy issues here.”

 

Kelly crossed her arms. “Really, Commander,” she deadpanned.

 

“What?” Shepard said defensively. “I don’t!”

 

Garrus tried to hide a laugh with a cough. “So people like, say… Hackett, or Anderson. They’re not surrogate father figures for you? You aren’t constantly seeking their approval?”

 

Shepard glared, but it was too late.

 

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I read all about you. Your parents were killed by slavers. You can’t fucking tell me that you aren’t still pissed about it.”

 

Thane nodded and spoke in his quiet way. “Every time I ask you advice about my son, you bring up the fact that you were orphaned. I sense a pattern here.”

 

Kelly looked at the now somewhat flustered commander with raised brows.

 

Shepard huffed. “Well, I think…” She trailed off. “I think… I think that instead of talking this out, we should all go to a bar and drink until we can’t remember our issues anymore. Who’s with me?” She grinned.

 

An hour later found the Normandy crew scattered around the Citadel’s Dark Star, hanging around the bar, chatting at tables, or enjoying a few dances.

 

Shepard sat at a table with Garrus and Tali, smiling lazily as she watched the action around them.

 

“Better than therapy, don’t you think?” she asked.

 

“The best therapy there is,” Garrus affirmed, clinking glasses with Shepard.

 

Tali joined in their toast. “Tequila se’lai.”

 

They all laughed, chatting and drinking all through the night, forgetting every single one of their daddy issues. There were more important things to consider—like who was paying for the next round of drinks.

 

…

 

 


	40. Little Black Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kasumi shows Shepard what she has to wear to Donovan Hock’s party. Shepard is not amused. Slight Shepard/Garrus, mid-late ME2.

“You’re kidding.” Her voice was deadpan.

 

“You can’t wear armor to a party, Shepard,” Kasumi admonished.

 

“I wear armor everywhere,” said Shepard, crossing her arms across her chest.

 

“Not to this party,” Kasumi insisted. “Besides, you’ll look gorgeous in the dress!”

 

Shepard’s stance didn’t change. “I don’t _do_ dresses. I haven’t worn one since I graduated from basic training.”

 

Kasumi picked up the dress in question and walked over to Shepard. “You don’t think it’s beautiful? I picked it out myself, you know.” She held it up against the commander, checking it out against the woman’s imposing silhouette.

 

Shepard rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she snapped, taking the dress out of Kasumi’s hands. She eyed the thief. “You better be worth all the trouble I’m going to for you.”

 

“Cerberus wouldn’t have picked me if I wasn’t,” Kasumi flounced.

 

Shepard motioned for her to turn around, and the thief stared out the window, listening to the pieces of Shepard’s armor hit the floor with loud thumps. After the last thump, Kasumi could hear Shepard fumbling around, interspersed with swearing under her breath.

 

“Oh, for the love of—“

 

“Need help?” Kasumi asked, her lips pulling into a smile. She couldn’t keep from finding it funny to see the commander so out of her depth.

 

“Why do they make these damn things so hard to put on?” Shepard vented. “Come zip me in already.”

 

Kasumi deftly zipped her into the dress, pointedly ignoring the commander’s glare as she’d walked over.

 

The thief stepped back to observe her masterpiece. “Wow, Shepard, you look good!” The only response was the commander’s accusing stare.

 

“Now, you just need a couple more things…” Kasumi turned to pick something up, bringing her findings back to Shepard.

 

Shepard stared at the stiletto heels with an expression of horror. “Oh, _hell_ no.”

 

…

 

Shepard stomped through the mess hall to see Chakwas, picking up her usual stims and medi-gel before a mission out.

 

Of course, she didn’t usually do it in skintight leather.

 

Heads were turning, and every male crewmember was ogling. Of course they’d guessed that their commander had a pretty hot body under all that armor, but _damn._ Many looks were exchanged, and several people ran to tell the others that they just _had_ to see this.

 

When Shepard stepped out of the med bay, the mess hall was twice as busy as it had been just minutes before. If looks could kill, the Normandy would have been short quite a few crew members by the time she reached the shuttle.

 

There were more crewmen waiting for her when she stepped off the elevator in the hangar, not all of them male. _Everyone_ wanted to catch sight of their imposing commander wearing a dress. Who wouldn’t? It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

 

Her eyes swept the crowd as she climbed into the shuttle, nearly growling at the assembled group. “Don’t you all have work to do?” she barked before slamming the door shut.

 

She glanced over at Kasumi, who was trying not to laugh.

 

“You’re dead, Goto.”

 

“Oh, you’ll thank me later,” Kasumi said confidently.

 

Shepard followed her eyes to one particular member of her crew, standing a bit behind the rest. The turian’s eyes were trained on her, and she felt heat rising up in her cheeks.

 

Well, the last time she’d worn a dress, she _had_ gotten laid.

 

Maybe she wouldn’t have to beat up Kasumi for this after all. Maybe.

 

…


	41. Girl Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some ladies of the Normandy have drinks together and end up talking about men, of course. Who would have guessed that there would be so many xenophiles on a Cerberus ship? Hints of Shepard/Garrus, ME2.

Shepard could hear the giggles the moment she stepped off the elevator.

 

Her brow crinkled slightly, and she followed the sounds to Kasumi’s lounge. The bar. Of course.

 

Never one to turn down a drinking opportunity, Shepard decided to go in. Kelly greeted her immediately. “Shepard!” the redhead crowed, coming over and draping an arm around her.

 

“What’s going on?” Shepard asked, smiling tentatively as she looked around the room.

 

“Girl talk,” Kasumi answered with an enigmatic smile.

 

That was enough to send Shepard looking for the exit. “I’m crappy at girl talk,” she told them, and turned to leave.

 

But Kelly had her in a vise grip. “No way!” the yeoman argued. “Not until you have a drink with us!”

 

Shepard looked for an ally in the room, but found none. Miranda was drunk enough not to care what went on, Chakwas and Kasumi were obviously enjoying themselves, and Jack was in the corner ignoring everyone. Tali was there, but had somehow managed to get alcohol through the suit filters, so even she was no help.

 

Shepard let out a sigh. “Fine. One drink.”

 

A cheer went up, and Shepard rolled her eyes. Kelly seated her at the bar, where Kasumi was serving. “So,” Shepard began, “What exactly are we talking about?”

 

“Men, of course!” Chakwas crowed with a laugh. Shepard looked at her apprehensively. She was not nearly drunk enough for this.

 

Kelly grinned. “We were going through all the men on the Normandy to say what we think about them!” She beamed, as if she could think of nothing that could possibly be more fun. “Jacob,” she called out.

 

Tali shrugged, Miranda looked uncomfortable, and Shepard distinctly heard an “Ugh,” from Jack’s corner.

 

“Smoking hot,” Kasumi declared from behind the bar.

 

“I know, right!” Kelly agreed. “He’s got an amazing body.”

 

“Doc,” Kasumi addressed to Chakwas, “You’ve examined him, right? How’s the equipment?”

 

The doctor just smiled. “Doctor-patient confidentiality,” she said.

 

Shepard raised a brow. “I think you’re asking the wrong person.” Everyone followed her gaze to Miranda.

 

The Cerberus operative blushed slightly. “The… what did you call it? ‘Equipment’ is satisfactory,” she told them. This, of course, set off another round of giggles.

 

Shepard looked around the room. _These_ were her experts? _These_ were her team to destroy the Collectors? She shook her head. They didn’t really stand a chance, did they?

 

“Garrus,” Kasumi called out. Shepard was sure she saw the thief’s lips curve into a small smile.

 

“His voice is so sexy,” Kelly said with a dreamy sigh. Even Miranda nodded at that.

 

Jack spoke up. “Aren’t you Cerberus stooges supposed to hate aliens?” she asked disdainfully.

 

Miranda shrugged. “Just because I support humanity doesn’t mean I hate aliens,” she said in her superior way.

 

“Whatever,” Jack muttered, and went back to ignoring them.

 

Kelly continued rhapsodizing. “He’s got this aura. The badass soldier with a heart of gold!”

 

“A broken heart of gold,” Kasumi interjected.

 

Kelly’s eyes went dreamy. “Doesn’t that just make you want to heal him, though?”

 

Kasumi shrugged, and glanced at Shepard under her hood. “Anything to add, Shep?” she asked innocently.

 

Shepard’s eyes flicked over to Kasumi for just a moment before she spoke. “I’m with Jack,” she said, avoiding the question. “I didn’t expect to find a bunch of xenophiles on a Cerberus ship.”

 

“I wonder what he looks like under the armor,” Kelly mused.

 

“Jack,” Kasumi called, “Ever been with a turian?”

 

The biotic shrugged. “Yeah, once.”

 

“How was it?” Kelly asked eagerly. “What did his body look like?”

 

“Shit,” Jack said, waving her off. “I’m not going to sit here and describe the whole damn experience.”

 

Kelly pouted for a moment, but then turned to Shepard with a glint in her eye. “Well, why don’t you tell us?” she asked coyly.

 

“Tell you what?” Shepard asked, unnerved.

 

Kelly smiled. “What a naked turian looks like.”

 

Shepard made a face, then stood. “Never seen one,” she said, disappointing her audience. She reached the door, and turned back to them. “But I’ll let you borrow my Fornax.”

 

Shepard moved into the hall towards the elevator. That was an experience she did not want to repeat.

 

Back in the lounge, Kelly was unable to hold back a giggle. “She subscribes to Fornax?”

 

…


	42. You've Got Mail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard invites everyone down for a drink via unintelligible instant message. Crew bonding, morale… you know the drill. ME2.

[ Chat opened 21:09 21/07/85 ]

 

TempestuousShep: come hang out

 

Calibrations101: I’m a bit busy.

 

TS: w/ what ?

 

TS: if u say calibratons i will drag u from the main battery and tie u to the bar

 

C101: …firing algorithms.

 

TS: omg

 

C101: Think the text translator glitched, Shepard. Not one of your usual typos. It didn’t catch it.

 

TS: how the hell does ur shorthand translatr not have that 1???

 

TS: no typo

 

TS: it means oh my god

 

TS: expressing my exasperation

 

TS: fyi ur so grounded

 

C101: Are you my mother now?

 

TS: grounded from the nxt mission, genius

 

C101: Fine. Where are you?

 

TS: lounge bar

 

C101: On my way.

 

…

 

[ Chat opened 21:14 21/07/85 ]

 

TempestuousShep: talizorah

 

TS: Need u

 

TaliZorah@Normandy: Don’t tell me you locked yourself out of your private terminal again.

 

TS: no

 

TS: important mssion

 

TS: pls come to observation rm

 

TS: the 1 thats not samaras

 

TZN: You mean the bar?

 

TS: observation rm

 

TZN: You know there’s only so much alcohol I can drink through a straw before some stray bacteria gets in, right?

 

TS: important mission tali!!!1

 

TZN: You’re completely insane, you know that, right?

 

TS: captains orders!!!!!

 

TZN: Keelah.

 

TZN: Alright, I’m coming.

 

TS: pls bring the wonder twins 2

 

TZN: Who?

 

TS: ken & gabby, obvz

 

TZN: You need them for this important mission too, huh?

 

TS: invasion of the bar

 

TS: need all my exprts

 

…

 

[ Chat opened 21:24 21/07/85 ]

 

TempestuousShep: jck

 

ZeroMercy: what the hell do u want shepard

 

TS: got alcohol if u cme to the bar

 

ZM: bar’s always there

 

ZM: why should I come now

 

TS: bc after tonight we r gonna be all out of drinks

 

TS: party time baby

 

ZM: you bitch

 

ZM: alright im coming

 

ZM: but if i break anything its ur fault

 

TS: noted

 

…

 

[ Chat opened 21:38 21/07/85 ]

 

TempestuousShep: got a bottle of ryncol w ur name on it

 

TS: lounge bar

 

PureKrogan: ;alkshdf;jagfn

 

TS: i will take that as a yes

 

…

 

[ Chat opened 21:41 21/07/85 ]

 

TempestuousShep: mrdin

 

TS: u shld come xperimnt

 

TS: alcohol n salarian system

 

STGdoc: not now in middle of investigating scale itch on Normandy

 

TS: ew

 

SD: curious about results of lowered inhibitions on crew, however

 

SD: will ask EDI to record

 

SD: view findings later

 

TS: buzzkill

 

…

 

[ Chat opened 21:50 21/07/85 ]

 

TempestuousShep: JACOB

 

TS: partyy tim @ bar

 

TS: ur presence needed

 

CrunchKing: hell yeah

 

TS: and kasumi says to pls come w/o shirt

 

CK: kasumi?

 

CK: niiice

 

TS: kp it in ur pants plz

 

…

 

[ Chat opened 21:59 21/07/85 ]

 

TempestuousShep: hey big z

 

TS: cm upstairs & drink w us

 

GoddamnMassani: what do you got

 

TS: everything

 

GM: scotch

 

TS: 3 diff bottles

 

TS: but hurry b4 ken drinks it all!!!

 

GM: shit

 

GM: on my goddamn way

 

…

 

[ Chat opened 22:07 21/07/85 ]

 

TempestuousShep: miriiiiiiiiii

 

TS: come hang out

 

MLaws: What?

 

TS: come hang out

 

TS: y wont u cm hangout

 

ML: I haven’t yet said I wouldn’t, Commander.

 

ML: Have you, by any chance, been drinking?

 

TS: how did u kno?????????

 

ML: Lucky guess.

 

TS: crew lounge stat

 

TS: party tiem

 

TS: morale!!!!!

 

ML: Did you happen to invite anyone additional up to the ship?

 

TS: no but good idea

 

TS: bigr party

 

ML: Wait, Commander!

 

ML: Don’t invite anyone else.

 

ML: I’ll be right there.

 

ML: We can have a…

 

ML: Crew bonding experience.

 

TS: ur the best miri!!!!!

 

TS: i knw we wd b besties

 

TS: nyways

 

TS: get 2 lounge captins orders

 

ML: Of course.

 

ML: I’m so looking forward to the experience.

 

…

 

[ Chat opened 22:24 21/07/85 ]

 

DeadlyDrell: Siha, I hear strange sounds from the lounge. What is going on?

 

TempestuousShep: partay

 

TS: do u drink

 

DD: I indulge on occasion.

 

TS: time2 indlge

 

TS: crew bonding or smthng

 

DD: Is the entire crew present?

 

TS: mordin said no

 

TS: didnt ask smara

 

TS: nything cld happn when we partay harddd

 

TS: don wanna b arrested whn mssion over

 

DD: Very well, Siha. I will join in the revelry.

 

TS: woot!!!!!!!1

 

DD: What does that mean?

 

DD: Siha?

 

…

 

[ Chat opened 07:01 22/07/85 ]

 

TempestuousShep: oh god

 

TS: im dying

 

NormandyDoc: Let me guess.

 

ND: Hangover?

 

TS: pls send morphine

 

ND: Did anyone else drink with you last night, Commander?

 

TS: y

 

TS: squad

 

ND: All of them?

 

TS: yes

 

TS: no

 

TS: I dunno

 

ND: Never mind. I’ll send a crewman around with painkillers.

 

ND: Maybe wait for shore leave next time?

 

TS: ugh

 

TS: never drinking again

 

ND: I’ll believe it when I see it, Commander.

 

…


	43. Be Vewwy Vewwy Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard is going hunting. Early ME3.

“Auuughh! Damn it!”

 

Engineer Adams looked up from the control panel in surprise as he heard the commotion from the subdeck below him. Concerned, he jogged to the stairs, quickly making his way down them to find out what all the fuss was about. It had sounded like Shepard’s voice—could something be seriously wrong?

 

When the subdeck came into view, a puzzling sight awaited him. Shepard was crouched low on the floor, peering intently into a crawl space beneath some pipes. Why she would be doing such a thing, he couldn’t imagine.

 

“Uh… need something, Commander?” he asked cautiously.

 

“Shhhh!!” She hushed him emphatically, waving an arm at him in an attempt to get her point across. Her eyes never strayed as she explained. “I’m trying to catch Boo,” she whispered. “He’s down here somewhere and keeps running from me!”

 

“Boo?” Adams asked, bewildered.

 

“My miniature giant space hamster,” she told him. He had no idea what she was talking about, but out of curiosity, he stayed, waiting to see what would happen.

 

Suddenly, something small and furry scurried across the floor. Shepard scrambled after it, nearly falling on her face to catch the thing, apparently this “Boo” she spoke of.

 

“Gotcha!” she cried out in victory. With a tight grip on the creature, she got up and dusted herself with her free hand. She presented the creature to Engineer Adams. “This,” she said, showing him, “is Boo. My hamster. Space hamster.”

 

Without waiting for a response from the perplexed engineer, she turned and headed up the stairs. Adams watched her go, still a bit taken aback by what he had just seen. If this was anything to judge by, things on the Normandy had gotten far more interesting since he had been gone.

 

As he turned to go, he saw something else out of the corner of his eye. Was that—he was sure his eyes were playing tricks on him—was that a model ship?

 

…


	44. More Than Commander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new primarch becomes curious about the nature of Garrus and Shepard’s relationship. Shepard/Garrus, early ME3.

When Adrien Victus asked Garrus Vakarian what it was like to work with Commander Shepard, he never could have anticipated how much Garrus would have to say on the subject.

 

Victus had simply been curious—she was interesting, an anomaly. Shepard was the first human Spectre, a disgraced Alliance officer, and someone who stuck to her convictions no matter what, which was a trait he admired, though he didn’t necessarily share all of those convictions.

 

He’d known that Garrus served under her during the investigation into Saren, and even when she had been working with Cerberus—both times going up against probable death and impossible odds of success. What kind of human was she to convince a turian to serve with her under such conditions?

 

It was said that Councilor Sparatus had found her notoriously difficult to work with. And yet, she collected followers as if she were some kind of space-age savior, her crew a cult of personality. All he had wanted to know was why.

 

He received far more than he had bargained for. Garrus extolled her many virtues, her innate ability to lead,  her skill on a battlefield, her talent for persuasion. Her determination, her biotics, how she cared for every one of her crew on an individual level. And he never shut up once he was on the damn subject.

 

“You speak very highly of her, Garrus,” he had finally said. It was a hell of an understatement, but Victus didn’t know _what_ to say. He had no idea of the flood he’d been unleashing by asking a simple question.

 

Vakarian looked him straight in the eye as he responded. “I could never speak highly enough of her.”

 

Even back then, there was something in the other turian’s manner that made Victus wonder.

 

…

 

The primarch’s mind was still reeling from his sudden change in rank as the commander’s asari companion showed him and Garrus to the war room. Victus could hear Shepard’s muffled voice coming from the next room as she spoke to Admiral Hackett over the vid-comm.

 

“It’s odd,” he commented, and Garrus looked at him questioningly.

 

Victus glanced towards the comm room. “She wields a lot of influence. It’s strange that she has been passed over for promotion.” In the Hierarchy, she would have been in her rightful place, a place of power. The Alliance didn’t seem to appreciate her abilities as they should.

 

He saw a look flash through the other turian’s eyes that he couldn’t quite place. “Shepard does what’s right, not what will take her up the chain of command. She could have easily been promoted by now, like the others who served with her before, but…” Garrus’s mandibles flared slightly, showing his discomfort with the subject. “She’s given up a lot to do what needs to be done.”

 

And then it suddenly clicked. The way Garrus talked about her. The way he followed her without question, without a look back. The way he’d looked just now—as if Garrus knew all too well how much she had sacrificed. It was clear now that Shepard was far more to him than just his commander.

 

Victus knew he shouldn’t acknowledge it; it was inappropriate to comment on this sort of thing without invitation. But the question came from him without prompting. “Are you in love with her?”

 

Garrus was silent for a moment as he glanced towards the comm room, not meeting the primarch’s eyes. “I need to check on the Normandy’s weapon systems. I’m sure the Alliance hasn’t figured out how to calibrate the Thanix cannon properly.” And with that, the turian left the room, never acknowledging the question.

 

Though Garrus hadn’t said as much, Victus had already gotten his answer.

 

When Commander Shepard came out of the comm room, they had much to discuss. And yet, he couldn’t help throwing in a couple of comments about Garrus, wanting to know how she would react. Humans, as a species, were expressive, but Commander Shepard wasn’t one to let her emotions show. His attempts availed him little.

 

However, the more he spoke with Shepard, the more impressed with her he became. Perhaps the things Garrus had said were not simply fueled by love or hero worship. Perhaps she was deserving of his praise. “Garrus speaks highly of you,” he told her.

 

Victus saw a curiosity in her eyes, but she buried it quickly. She was an interesting contradiction—it seemed she could get anyone to open up to her, and yet she never revealed anything about herself. She was clearly not an easy person to know. It was strange in a human, a species that always seemed to talk so much and say so little, whose faces betrayed every emotion before they spoke a word of it.

 

“My thoughts are with Palaven,” she told him as they parted. They were surprising words from her while her own world was burning, but he felt the sincerity behind them.

 

“And mine with Earth,” he responded in kind. His eyes lingered on her, still wondering about the nature of her relationship with Garrus. This wasn’t his business, but he had to know—was Vakarian pining away in secret, or was he carrying on a relationship with his superior? Victus didn’t like the idea that this human held such sway over him.

 

Shepard noticed his stare, and looked at him curiously. “Was there something else, Primarch?”

 

He shouldn’t say anything, and he knew it, but there was something about her that made him feel as if he could speak freely. He was beginning to understand why she held such influence over so many. He made his way toward the subject. “Vakarian has served with you quite a while, Commander. I thought you might be able to tell me a bit about him.”

 

Her eyes quickly became guarded, suspicious. “Garrus is loyal, dependable, and one of the best soldiers I’ve ever known,” she said. “But you’ve fought beside him, Victus. You would know him as well as I do.”

 

“Not the way I hear it, Commander,” he said carefully.

 

With sudden understanding, she took a step back, crossing her arms. “My private life is my own business, Primarch.” Her eyes that had been so welcoming were now hardened into a wall he could not get past.

 

Her use of his title was a reminder to keep things professional, but he ignored it. He wasn’t ready to drop the subject. He looked her in the eye. He was going to say his piece. “I have no interest in prying, Commander. I am simply looking out for one of my own.”

 

She met his eyes with a challenge. “With all due respect, sir, Garrus is one of mine.”

 

Her words shocked him, but she didn’t allow him time to protest. “And I doubt I’d still be standing here without him,” she added. Her voice softened. “You don’t need to worry about him, Victus. You can be sure of that.”

 

The primarch’s words died on his tongue. Whatever else he thought of Commander Shepard, she meant every word she said. Though not human, Garrus was one of her people. And though she hadn’t said so outright, it was clear that she cared for him as deeply as he did for her.

 

She stared at him, waiting for some response. He cleared his throat. “Then I am sorry for the intrusion, and…” He paused. “I hope you find some happiness.”

 

He saw the look of surprise cross her face before he turned back to his terminal, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the war room as she left him there, alone and thoughtful.

 

The idea of a turian and human together was an uncomfortable one for him, and he was far from alone in that opinion. But _this_ human and _this_ turian seemed to fit somehow—and that was a thought that made him equally uncomfortable.

 

Maybe he hadn’t left all of his prejudices behind.

 

…

 


	45. Worst Kept Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara is having some trouble with the Normandy’s resident journalist. Shepard handles it in a way that only she would. Mid ME3.

Liara looked up as she heard a strange grinding sound and a yelp from the other side of her door. She frowned, and hit the switch to unlock it.

 

A grumpy-looking Shepard stood on the other side, cradling her hand and examining her fingers.

 

Liara crossed her arms and cocked her head. She had an inkling. “Shepard, were you trying to hack through my door?”

 

The commander dropped her hand and shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. “Glyph said I had an upgrade waiting."

 

Liara just shook her head and turned back to her console. “I think the usual protocol with a locked door is to knock. Besides,” she continued, a hint of a smile crossing her face, “You can’t even check your email without help. How exactly did you think you were going to hack my door?”

 

Shepard crossed her arms, shooting Liara a look. “Well, it shouldn’t have been locked anyway! What’s with that?” she pressed. “Trying to keep me out?”

 

Liara let out a sigh, turning to her friend. “Not you. You know that reporter, Allers?” she asked. “She’s been snooping around.”

 

Shepard shrugged. “She probably heard a rumor somewhere,” she replied casually, and smirked. “You have to admit it, Liara. You being the Shadow Broker is just about the worst kept secret in the galaxy.”

 

Liara gave her a withering look. “She’s a reporter, Shepard. She can’t know about this.”

 

Shepard rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry,” she said, a gleam filling her eye. “I’ll take care of it.”

 

Liara’s eyes followed Shepard as the commander exited. “That sounds a bit ominous,” she commented under her breath, turning back to her data feeds.

 

…

 

“Need to talk to you, Allers,” Shepard announced as she entered the reporter’s quarters.

 

“What is it, Commander?” Diana replied, giving the commander a questioning look.

 

Shepard leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “I hear you’ve been trying to sneak into Liara’s quarters.”

 

Diana got defensive. “She’s hiding something in there, I just know it!” She looked at Shepard pleadingly. “You’ve been in there! You must know what she’s hiding.”

 

Shepard raised a brow. “It’s your lucky day, Allers. I do know what she’s been hiding.” At Diana’s eager expression she held up her hands defensively. “No story, and no more snooping,” she commanded.

 

“Deal,” was the reporter’s impatient reply. She was practically salivating.

 

Shepard’s lips only twitched slightly. “Sex slaves,” she deadpanned, and walked out.

 

Diana never retrieved her jaw from the floor.

 

…

 


	46. Far Off Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She always gets asked the same questions. She usually lies, but not this time. Shepard/Garrus, ME3.

We were sitting on the bed in the captain’s quarters when he asked the question. “How do you handle it? The stress, the pain, the death… you always seem so calm, no matter what happens.” He looked at me closely. “Even when we’re alone.”

 

I sighed. I knew the question was coming. Every time we lost someone, I would get asked the same question.

 

Everyone knew my history. Most of my life was a matter of public record—I’d been in the news since I was sixteen years old, not to mention all the biographies that have been written since I died two years ago, seven at my last count. All these people who thought they knew my story believed me to be some kind of superhero for surviving it all. I didn’t waste time trying to shatter their illusions.

 

Within my crew, I tried to take on all the responsibility for whatever happened on our missions, and they were usually happy to let me do it. I was their commanding officer after all. But when they asked, I gave the same stock answer.

 

_There’s always a chance you’ll lose someone. You can’t save everyone, and you have to make peace with knowing you did everything you could. And then you vow to do better next time._

 

I turned to him, ready to speak, but the usual words just wouldn’t come out. He was hurting, and I couldn’t lie.

 

I looked away. I was about to say things I’d never told a living soul before, and I just couldn’t meet his eyes while I did it. I stared towards my fish tank, not seeing fish, but distant, far off memories.

 

“I don’t,” I began simply, not knowing quite how to explain. “If I thought too much about the things I’ve been through… I’m not sure I could go on. It’s easier to ignore them.”

 

When talking about my life, I was purposefully vague, but I owed it to him to be truthful. I took a deep breath and continued. “After the disaster on Akuze, I took a year of leave from the military. A family on Elysium heard about my situation and offered me a home to rent. They had bought out this entire little town and kept it for vacationers and rich retired people. It’s one of the only places left on Elysium that isn’t completely built up, and they like it that way. It’s their own little piece of paradise.”

 

I felt his arm gently wrap around my waist, and I leaned my head onto his shoulder as I spoke, taking comfort in the gesture. “When I feel like I’m going to be completely overwhelmed by the pressure or when I feel like I can’t escape the memories, I close my eyes and imagine I’m there. That house is the only place I’ve ever felt truly peaceful.”

 

“It was a beautiful house,” I continued. “And the town really was like paradise. Everything was so beautiful and green. My house was at the end of the road with a short walk to the beach. No one ever bothered me. I was alone, but that’s what I had wanted at the time. Remembering, and bringing back those feelings, is all that keeps me calm sometimes.”

 

I was silent for a few moments, and he asked me another question. “Were you happy there?”

 

I shrugged against him. “Not happy, exactly. I had been through so much. Just… peaceful.”

 

I was silent for a moment, knowing the question he had really meant to ask. My instincts told me to shut up, that I’d already said too much already, but I so desperately wanted to be able to confide in him. I took a breath. “I have lots of happier memories,” I assured him. “But most of them, well, they hurt too much to remember now.”

 

I always tried to hold these memories back, of home and parents, my little sister… our simple life. There was a reason I didn’t talk about it. I would have been lying if I said that it didn’t still hurt. I usually lied.

 

“Going to have trouble taking me seriously as your commanding officer?” I asked. A hint of a smile crossed my face. “You know I’m going to have to kick you off my ship if you can’t follow orders.”

 

“No need to worry about that,” he said, smiling back. He wrapped his arm tighter around me. “I already knew you weren’t invincible.” He paused. “I was just hoping you trusted me enough to tell me the truth.”

 

A ghost of a laugh escaped me. “You’re the only person in the galaxy who’s heard any of this.”

 

He reached for my hand and squeezed it. “Your secret is safe with me.”

 

…

 


	47. Over and Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaidan still loves her. One-sided Shepard/Kaidan, bits of Shepard/Garrus. ME3.

The whole time she was under house arrest, I went out of my way to keep from seeing her. I didn’t want to have feelings for her. I tried so hard to stop myself. She wasn’t the woman I had thought she was, and yet, I couldn’t stop loving her.

 

It seemed so ironic that fate threw us together the day Earth was attacked. Just seeing her sent a shock through me. I had forgotten how beautiful she was. I felt like such an idiot standing in front of her, unable to formulate a coherent thought. But everything I felt was totally overshadowed by what happened only minutes after we crossed paths.

 

It was surreal to be on the Normandy again, caught between the nightmare of the reapers and the unbidden happiness I felt by just being around her. I had dreamed of this, being back on the Normandy with her. It only figures that I would realize that dream in the middle of the war with the reapers, after I’d lost my faith in her.

 

And yet, in spite of my misgivings, I followed her orders as if it was second nature, as if I wasn’t the ranking officer on the vessel. Old habits die hard, I guess.

 

She was a compelling woman. And when I questioned her, when I probed, trying to find out if she was still the woman I’d loved, she never backed down. I was nearly ready to let her back in, but fate got in the way.

 

When I woke in the hospital, she was the only person I wanted to see. I waited what seemed like forever for her to visit, but when she finally came, it didn’t go as I had hoped.

 

I thought we had something special, something real. I guess I was the only one who felt that way.

 

Maybe she _wasn’t_ the woman I thought she was.

 

When I asked her, one last time, to reconsider, she was firm. For her, it had been over on Horizon. I’d had my chance and lost it.

 

And though I couldn’t, she had moved on—to a turian, of all things. Not that I was some kind of xenophobe, but it was hard to stomach. What did she see in him that she couldn’t find in me?

 

I never learned the answers. She didn’t visit me again, and the next time I saw her, I was staring down the barrel of her gun.

 

Even after that, I still couldn’t find it in me to give up on her entirely. But I knew, when she wouldn’t accept me back on the Normandy, that she meant everything she said.

 

If I had to love her from a distance, then I would. She believed it was over, and on her end I guess it was.

 

But for me, it would never be over.

 

…


	48. Writing on the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Garrus talk after the Citadel attack. ME3.

Shepard was exhausted from her long and trying day, filled with danger, death, and difficult decisions. She wanted to go up to her cabin to be alone for a while, but Traynor had mentioned something about Chakwas wanting to see her.

 

So she stepped into the elevator, slumping against the wall as the doors closed in front of her. For some people, a day like this would be considered one of the worst days of their life, but Shepard had experienced far more than her fair share of “worst” days.

 

Only one friend had died this day.

 

She composed herself as the elevator doors opened, revealing Garrus’s silhouette against the Normandy’s memorial wall. As she stepped up beside him, she read through the list of names she had already memorized, as well as the new one. Thane Krios. Her heart ached. Even though he had already been dying, it seemed far too soon.

 

Garrus turned to her as she came up beside him. “Hell of a day. Udina loses his mind, the Citadel almost falls… and you almost had to put down a friend.”

 

“And Thane,” Shepard added quietly.

 

“And Thane,” he agreed with a sigh.

 

He eyed her, trying to gauge her state of mind. “If it had come down to it… could you have pulled the trigger on Kaidan?”

 

Shepard sighed. She had just revisited this with Kaidan himself, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to again. “I don’t know, Garrus. We’ve already lost so many,” she said softly, gazing at the names in front of her. “We start killing our friends, and war turns into murder.”

 

Garrus put an arm around her. “But it doesn’t always give us the easy way out, does it?”

 

Shepard’s silence was her response. It wasn’t in her to take the easy way out. Sometimes she wished it was. She was just so tired.

 

Garrus spoke up again. “At least Kaidan didn’t have to join Ash.”

 

Shepard nodded, quiet for a moment before speaking up again. “Kaidan asked to come with us, on the Normandy.”

 

Garrus glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “By the way you phrased that, I take it you told him no?”

 

“Admiral Hackett offered him a position. I told him to take it,” she said by way of response.

 

“It would have been nice to work with Kaidan again,” Garrus stated, running a talon over Ashley’s name on the wall.

 

Shepard looked at him in disbelief. “You can’t mean that, not with our history.”

 

Garrus looked at her and shrugged. “Life is too short to hold grudges, Shepard. And if you wanted him back, you would have done it.”

 

Shepard contemplated his response. He was right, of course, but it wasn’t that simple.

 

Garrus turned to her. “If you don’t mind me asking… why did you turn him away?”

 

Shepard sighed, turning her eyes to the wall again. “He… needed a push,” she said vaguely, but she was certain Garrus understood her meaning.

 

She let out a sigh as she moved to go. Kaidan wasn’t dead, but it was still one more goodbye. One more person to let go of when there was so little left to hold to already. Shepard was certain she had made the right decision, but it hurt just the same.

 

As she walked away, Garrus still stared at the wall of names, just a fraction of the people lost to the terrible war.

 

And it wasn’t over yet.

 

…


	49. Connect the Spots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus has found a new game. Shepard is not amused. Shepard/Garrus, ME3.

I had just started to drift off when I felt a persistent poking at my nose and cheeks. I opened an eye to see a certain turian staring intently, talon poised over the tip of my nose.

 

“What the hell are you doing, Vakarian?” I demanded, breaking his concentration.

 

He met my eyes and shrugged. “Just playing a game.”

 

I looked at him with a raised brow. “What game exactly is it that involves you poking my face over and over?”

 

“It’s that human game... What do you call it? Connect the spots?” He continued to do so as I grimaced.

 

“It’s connect the dots, Garrus,” I corrected with a sigh.

 

“Yeah, that one,” He said, tracing a pattern on my face. “I’m using your freckles.”

 

“Right,” I drawled, and closed my eyes again. “Remind me never to teach you any more human games.”

 

God only knows what he’d do with hide and seek or color-by-numbers.

 

…


	50. Spectre Authority

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The C-Sec agent sent to investigate the car at the top of the presidium gets more than he bargained for. Shepard/Garrus, ME3.

Just as Garrus Vakarian leaned in to kiss his human girlfriend, he saw a car land next to them where they had parked at the top of the presidium. “Shit,” he uttered, and Shepard sat up, looking out the skycar's viewport.

 

“C-Sec?” she asked, giving him a glance, and he nodded. There wasn’t time to get dressed—the officer was already out of the car and approaching. But Shepard gave Garrus a confident nod. “I’ve got this,” she said.

 

She rolled down the window far enough to peek her head out. “Is there a problem, officer?” The officer took in the sight around him—sniper rifle carelessly abandoned next to a pile of heat sinks and several empty bottles, skycar illegally parked with two people inside who may or may not have been naked. Garrus had to admit that it didn’t look good.

 

“Well,” said the officer as he turned back to the commander, “We can start with trespassing.” He had already started to type things in on a datapad.

 

“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,” Shepard responded coolly. Garrus thought he was going to have a heart attack. What exactly did she think she was accomplishing by pissing off the C-Sec officer?

 

The officer crossed his arms and sneered at her. “Oh really? And why is that?”

 

“We have permission to be up here,” she told him levelly. She crossed her arms. “Spectre authority.”

 

The officer was really beginning to look incensed. “Well if that isn’t the biggest load of shit I—”

 

She interrupted him. “Do I need to tell Commander Bailey that one of his officers is interfering with Spectre business?” she asked, and leaned forward. “If anyone gets onto you for not dealing with us up here, tell them that Commander Shepard said to let it go.”

 

The officer gave her one long look before storming back to his car. Once the car was gone, Shepard rolled up the window and turned back to Garrus with a smug smile on her face. “Told you I’d take care of it.”

 

Garrus laughed as he pulled her close to him once again, continuing what they’d started. “You’ll just pull that Spectre authority out for anything, won’t you?” he teased.

 

Her eyes sparkled as she came in close. “Only the important stuff.”

 

…


	51. Don't Forget the Shotgun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali threatens Garrus over chocolate. Shepard/Garrus, ME3.

“I’ll find another docking tube, override the controls, and let the boarding party on,” Shepard said with a nod as she stepped into the airlock to board the geth dreadnought alone.

 

As the door closed behind her, Tali turned to Garrus, slapping her shotgun down into her palm.

 

“Just so you know,” she stated coolly, “If you even think about it, this shotgun will be waiting for you.”

 

Garrus took a quick step back, raising his hands defensively. “Think about what?” he asked, alarmed.

 

“You know,” Tali began, a false lightness in her voice, “A pretty French doctor. Turian chocolate…”

 

“What?” Garrus asked, and she just stared at him. “Oh,” he said suddenly in realization. “Oh!” he said again as her meaning truly hit him.

 

Tali took a couple of steps forward, forcing Garrus to retreat until his back was flat against the wall. “Shepard is my best friend. If you hurt her…”

 

“Tali, I have no intention of hurting Shepard. Ever,” Garrus said firmly.

 

After a few intense moments, the quarian finally stepped back, satisfied. “Good,” she stated. “Because if you do…” She trailed off, brandishing her weapon for his benefit. “This shotgun will be waiting for you.”

 

“Noted,” he responded, clearly unnerved and eyeing the gun.

 

…

 

At the end of the day, Shepard and Garrus were relaxing in the lounge, drinks in hand.

 

Garrus wrapped his free arm around Shepard, who leaned into his shoulder. A perfect fit. “So, Tali threatened me with her shotgun today,” he said conversationally.

 

Shepard looked up at him, an amused look in her eye. “Isn’t that pretty standard for you two?”

 

Garrus laughed, but, to be honest, he was still a bit taken aback by what had occurred earlier that day. “Not like this,” he told her.

 

“Oh?” Shepard prompted, her interest piqued.

 

Garrus shifted uncomfortably. “Do you remember the thing about Dr. Michel and the chocolate?”

 

Shepard’s wide-eyed curiosity quickly turned into barely-restrained amusement. “I see where this is going.”

 

Garrus shook his head. “Let’s just say that I’ve been threatened with bodily harm if I ever dared to leave you.”

 

Shepard’s laughter bubbled out of her. “I wish I had been there to see it.”

 

Garrus looked at her with mild surprise. “It doesn’t bother you?”

 

“What, Tali threatening you?” she asked laughingly.

 

“No, Dr. Michel,” he corrected.

 

Shepard’s eyes went soft. “I know you far too well to be bothered by that, Garrus.” Her hand reached up to his face, pulling him in for a kiss.

 

She smiled at him as she pulled away. “You worry too much,” she gently admonished.

 

He shrugged. “You know me,” he said, his voice rumbling with that extra _something_ that always made Shepard’s breath hitch. “Always worrying,” he said, low, just before he leaned in to capture her lips again.

 

…

 

Shepard entered the war room and made her way over to Tali, gladly noting that Admiral Raan was just out of earshot. She leaned on the wall near her friend and crossed her arms, an amused expression on her face.

 

“So you’re threatening Garrus now, huh?” Shepard could barely keep the mirth from bubbling up in her voice. She found the idea of little Tali threatening and scaring the hell out of Garrus so amusing that it was hard to contain herself.

 

“Did he go running to you to complain?” Tali asked in annoyance, turning away from her console with a hand on her hip.

 

Shepard laughed. “You really meant it, didn’t you?”

 

Tali’s hand dropped and she took a few steps, closing the space between them. “Of course I did,” she said quietly. “Someone ought to be looking out for you.”

 

Shepard’s amusement melted away as she realized just how serious her friend was. “You don’t need to worry about me, Tali,” she said, her voice softening. “But thank you.”

 

Tali put a hand on Shepard’s arm. “You’re a good friend, Shepard. You’ve looked out for me over the years. I’m just returning the favor.”

 

It was so easy for Shepard to forget that she wasn’t alone. With all the pressure placed on her by Hackett, by the Alliance, by everyone, she didn’t always remember that there were others she could rely on.

 

“Anyways,” Tali added, getting back to work, “If you need me, _or_ need my shotgun,” she teased, “I’ll be right here.”

 

…


	52. Of Alphabets and Airlocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard trolls Javik, just a little. ME3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been brought to my attention that not everyone is familiar with the "Speak & Spell". It's a learning toy first introduced in 1978 to help kids with reading/spelling/etc.
> 
> Fun fact: It is one of the earliest hand-held electronics that had both a visual display and used interchangeable catridges! The precursor to Gameboy, DS, etc. It's considered a key invention in electronic engineering!
> 
> For further reading: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Speak_%26_Spell_(toy)  
> To see one in action: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UwWaeEyhPP0

“Have you acquired that item we talked about?”

 

Steve Cortez nearly jumped out of his skin as Shepard appeared next to him. He really should pay more attention. He finished up on the console turned to her. “I have it, but it was a hell of a thing to find,” he told her. He went over to one of the supply crates and dug through it, finding the unmarked box that held Shepard’s prize. A gleeful look crossed her features as he placed it in her hands.

 

He watched her curiously. “You know these have long been obsolete, right? There’s an omni-tool app for that.” _Obsolete_ was a vast understatement. They’d been obsolete before humans even had omni-tools. But all she did was smile at him enigmatically.

 

“What’s it for?” he finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

 

Her blue eyes sparkled as she answered mysteriously, “Science.”

 

…

 

Shepard fidgeted in boredom as she sat at her desk, watching EDI’s security footage. “Where is he?” she asked impatiently, more to herself than to the AI. Her fingers twirled her red hair absently.

 

EDI spoke up. “His elevator has just reached the engineering deck, Shepard.” She paused. It was strange; there was no reason Shepard should be able to tell that the AI had something more to say, but somehow she just knew. After a beat of silence, EDI said it. “Are you certain this is ethical, Commander?”

 

Shepard raised a brow. An AI was attempting to be her conscience. A Cerberus-built AI who had only asked her the other day if she ought to modify her code to become more “good”. Shepard let out a sigh. “It’s research, EDI,” she explained exasperatedly. “Important stuff here.” Also entertaining, if it played out right.

 

“As you say, Shepard.” And the AI fell silent.

 

Moments later, a movement on screen caught Shepard’s attention. She sat up straighter as Javik came into view. He entered his quarters, appearing to go about his business, when he noticed the item on the table.

 

The outdated piece of electronics was a hideous bright orange detailed with equally hideous yellow and blue, and rather bulky for what it promised to do. The prothean picked it up hesitantly, his brow lowering into a frown. Not very different from his usual expression, actually.

 

He pressed a button. _E_ , it said loudly, in a scratchy, robotic voice. Javik pressed a second button. _V_ , it said. His frown deepened, and he pressed another button.

 

 _Say it_ , the machine instructed. And it began listing off words. Javik’s expression was absolutely thunderous.

 

“The machine is possessed,” the prothean declared, though he was alone in the room. Shepard stifled a laugh. And then leaned forward as Javik suddenly disappeared off screen, taking the object with him.

 

“EDI!” Shepard called urgently, eyes glued on the monitor. “Switch cameras! I need you to follow him.”

 

“As you wish, Shepard,” came the AI’s voice. The visuals onscreen changed to a view of the hallway. Javik entered the elevator, and the camera angle changed again. Shepard’s brow furrowed as he pressed the button for the flight deck. What was he doing?

 

She watched him march through the CIC towards the cockpit, but he stopped before reaching Joker. The revelation came to her in a flash. She jumped out of her chair and ran to the elevator. “Cut the footage, EDI,” she called as the doors shut.

 

She reached Javik just as he was walking away from the airlock. Shepard shook her head and couldn’t help letting out a laugh. “Well, I’ve got to hand it to you, Javik. If nothing else, you’re consistent.”

 

He looked at her strangely, narrowing his eyes. “I do not understand, Commander,” he said in his short way.

 

“If a machine can talk, destroy it,” she quoted in her best Javik voice, attempting to bury her smile in a Javik-style frown.

 

He crossed his arms. “ _You_ left the machine in my quarters,” he accused, staring her down with all four eyes.

 

Shepard shrugged, letting her smile return. “It’s called a speak-and-spell,” she told him. “You just spaced a two-hundred-year-old antique.”

 

With an utterly straight face he replied with, “And I am fifty-thousand years old. It was me or the machine, Commander.”

 

She laughed, and motioned for him to walk with her. He stepped in beside her, his frown still present. “What was the purpose of this?” he demanded.

 

Shepard’s smile widened into a grin as they reached the elevator. “For science,” she explained.

 

Javik shook his head. “You are worse than the salarian.”

 

…

 

 


	53. Strip or Spill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James gets the idea for a poker night. Shenanigans ensue. Shepard/Garrus, mid/late-ME3.

Nearly everyone had noticed the poker table in the lounge, but it was James who insisted that they absolutely had to organize a poker night.

 

“Just poker?” Cortez asked as the group gathered. “You couldn’t think of anything more exciting, Mr. Vega?” he teased.

 

Ken jumped in. “We could make it strip poker,” he supplied, his eyes sparkling with excitement. The idea was well-received all-around except for Gabby, who whacked him on the arm at the suggestion. There was just one problem…

 

“Tali can’t play,” Shepard objected. She thought strip poker sounded like a blast, but she wasn’t going to make her friend sit it out so the rest of them could have their fun.

 

Many disappointed looks were exchanged until Traynor spoke up. “I have an idea that might work for everyone. Have any of you heard of ‘Strip or Spill’ poker?” she asked. Everyone shook their heads no, so she explained.

 

“It works just like strip poker, except that you have the option to tell a secret instead of taking off a piece of clothing. Tali can play, and so can anyone else who doesn’t want to get naked tonight.” She grinned. Though a couple of people looked disappointed at the prospect of others telling secrets rather than stripping, most looked intrigued by the idea. Tali, especially, seemed happy with it.

 

James spoke up with a problem. “What if it isn’t a good secret?” he asked, crossing his arms.

 

Shepard’s eyes lit up immediately. “I can solve that.” She punched something in on her omni-tool. “Liara?” she called. “Need you here in the lounge.”

 

“I’ll be just a moment, Shepard,” they heard from Liara’s end.

 

When the asari entered the room, she looked around, surveying the several open bottles of alcohol, the decks of cards, and the tall stacks of chips on the poker table.

 

“Shepard,” she said, exasperated, “I already told you I don’t want to play poker.”

 

The commander shook her head. “That’s not why you’re here, Liara. We need you to be our strip poker commissioner.”

 

Liara gave her a funny look. “Strip poker commissioner?”

 

“Yes,” Shepard replied, and began to explain the basic rules to her. “So,” she finished up, “We need you to decide whether a secret is good enough, or what counts as a piece of clothing. We need a fair judge.”

 

Liara was still undecided, so Shepard resorted to flattery and bribery. “Come on, you’re an expert on secrets! And think about all the juicy things you could learn tonight,” she added. “It’ll be fun.”

 

After a drawn-out moment, the asari nodded her consent. With that settled, they could finally begin their game. Including Liara, there were nine of them—Ken and Gabby, James and Cortez, Traynor, Tali, Garrus, and Shepard—just enough people to make it fun.

 

“Alright,” Shepard confirmed, looking around the table as everyone settled in. “It’s regular five card draw, betting as usual, and if you lose the showdown, you have to strip or spill. Got it?” At everyone’s affirmative nods, she began to deal the cards.

 

People were a bit gun-shy on the first round. Everyone folded early except for Shepard and James, who kept upping the ante long after everyone else had dropped out. When they finally stopped raising the pot, they showed their cards—James had two pair and Shepard had a flush.

 

Shepard took her chips with a smug, satisfied smile, but James didn’t seem the slightest bit perturbed by his loss. As he stripped his shirt off, it dawned on her.

 

“You lost on purpose just to take off your shirt!” Shepard exclaimed, and he didn’t bother denying the accusation.

 

James simply looked around the table, grinning at each of the ladies in turn. “It’s okay to look, Sparks,” he teased Tali, who might have been blushing under her mask. “You too, Esteban,” he directed to Cortez with a hearty laugh.

 

After that, everyone loosened up. On the second round, Traynor, Garrus, and Tali went to the showdown, with Garrus the victor. Tali told an embarrassing story from her teenage years, and Traynor took off her shirt.

 

Inhibitions lowered quickly as the alcohol did its job. After a few rounds, most people were missing at least once piece of clothing, and a few were missing more than that. Shepard had gotten down to pants and bra, taking her shirt off in an embarrassing loss to Garrus, who knew her too well to fall for her bluffing.

 

Not long after removing her shirt, Shepard noticed a pair of eyes on her now-uncovered chest. “My eyes are up here, Traynor!” Shepard said with a laugh. Though she could feel Garrus bristle beside her, she found it funny—at first. But as Traynor began to get more and more tipsy, things got a little uncomfortable.

 

“Um, Sam?” Gabby asked hesitantly, trying to talk to the comm specialist while averting her eyes. “Why the bra?”

 

Traynor’s arms were folded casually over her now-bare breasts. “What do you mean?”

 

A glance at the woman would have explained that immediately—Traynor was still fully clothed from the waist down.

 

Shepard could easily answer the original question if Traynor’s seductive looks in her direction were any indication. Especially after the “accidental” boob slip that was accompanied by a wink, Shepard was certain that this was no longer funny, and, in fact, quite frightening. She was lucky Garrus hadn’t seen the wink, or else she might have been peeling her comm specialist off the lounge floor.

 

Another awkward situation was brewing at the same time, one that probably could have been avoided had James not added an extra couple shots to the drink he made for Cortez.

 

The man’s eyes had been glued to Ken’s abs ever since he’d finished that drink, barely looking away to check his cards. Consequently, Gabby’s silent glare had been focused on Cortez for nearly as long. Eventually, she couldn’t control her frustration. “Damn it, will you stop staring at him?” she demanded.

 

“What do you care?” Cortez asked, and Gabby went silent. Nearly everyone in the room knew exactly why she cared, but she would never admit as much.

 

As the game was getting to the point that more secrets were being told than clothing taken off (with Traynor as the major exception), Tali noticed something.

 

“You haven’t lost a hand yet, have you, Garrus?” she asked curiously, and he just shrugged. It was true. The turian still wore every piece of his armor.

 

“Beating all the humans at our own game,” Ken stated with a laugh. “Figures. We wanted you to lose.”

 

“What?” Garrus asked, confused. “Why me?”

 

Gabby chimed in. “We,” she said, motioning to herself and Ken, “were hoping you’d lose so we could find out what a turian looks like under all that armor.”

 

Garrus barked a laugh. “Sorry to disappoint. Besides, that’s what the extranet is for,” he replied, barely looking up from his cards.

 

“God, no,” James immediately protested, “Don’t tell them that! You _really_ don’t want to know what comes up when you search ‘naked turian’.” He, Shepard, and Traynor all shuddered simultaneously. The others didn’t dare to ask.

 

As the game wore on, Tali wasn’t doing so well. “For someone hiding behind a mask, you suck at bluffing, Sparks,” was James’ comment as she lost yet another hand.

 

She sighed in annoyance, trying to come up with another acceptable secret. “Okay,” she began. “There was this one time that Shepard and I were on the Citadel and…”

 

“Hey!” Shepard objected. “You can’t tell that! It’s my secret too.”

 

“But I can’t think of any more!” Tali cried.

 

Everyone turned to the strip poker commissioner, who looked thoughtful. After a long moment, Liara spoke. “I’ll allow it.” It was half pity on the asari’s part, but Tali could really use a break.

 

Tali’s fist-pump into the air was not lost on Shepard, who just shook her head. “Well, at least I’ve already got all of tonight’s dirt on you,” was her only comment, and her only consolation.

 

But all of these awkward moments paled in comparison to one that took place later, after many bottles of liquor had been consumed, many secrets had been revealed, and a significant amount of clothing had been removed. Even Garrus had lost a couple pieces of armor by the time it happened.

 

Everyone’s heads snapped up when the door opened suddenly—they weren’t expecting any visitors. In walked the turian primarch, stopping short when he realized there were nine people staring at him, most of whom were clearly drunk and in various states of undress.

 

His eyes focused in on one particular face, the one person who had desperately hoped not to be noticed. “Vakarian!” the primarch exclaimed in shock. “What are you doing?”

 

If the turian could blush, he would have been a deep shade of scarlet. “Um,” he stammered, “I’m, uh, improving inter-species relations, sir.”

 

A snort of laughter came from behind. “Isn’t that what you were doing in Shepard’s cabin last night?” James called from the corner, wearing a shit-eating grin. Shepard turned and glared, and Garrus looked like he wanted to sink through the floor.

 

At a loss for words, the primarch turned on his heel and left, having completely forgotten his original purpose. Once Shepard saw the door close behind him, she turned back to the younger marine.

 

“Alright, James,” she began, “For that charming outburst you get the privilege of cleaning my weapon for me after the next ground mission.”

 

James’ eyes were still sparkling with laughter. “Isn’t that his job?” he asked with a nod towards Garrus.

 

Shepard shot him another glare, and this one was positively terrifying. “I’m going to let Javik toss you out the airlock in a minute,” she threatened. That finally shut him up—Javik would do it, too, even if the commander was only joking. That guy was scary.

 

In spite of the waning number of clothing items left, the game could have worn on all night if it hadn’t had one final interruption.

 

“Commander,” came a particularly attractive-sounding voice from the comm unit.

 

“EDI?” Shepard questioned, annoyed at the disturbance and hoping that the AI didn’t need anything important. She was a little drunk to be solving a crisis right now.

 

“Shepard,” EDI began, “I wanted to alert you to the fact that Jeff has been watching the lounge security footage for the past fifty-five minutes. I thought you might wish to know.”

 

Shepard closed her eyes in annoyance. “You don’t think you could have mentioned this sooner, EDI?”

 

There was a long pause before the AI answered. “I was also watching. It is interesting to see how different species react to the removal of clothing and sharing of secrets while inebriated.”

 

“Right,” Shepard deadpanned, slapping her cards down on the table. Everyone looked properly horrified, and most were attempting to cover themselves in one way or another. Cards and drinks had been carelessly abandoned in a mad scramble for clothing, and Tali, in a panicked voice, was asking EDI if the security feed had audio surveillance as well.

 

The commander surveyed the chaos with surprising calmness.

 

“So…” Shepard said to no one in particular, “I take it this means you all fold?”

 

Once Shepard had retrieved her own clothing (as well as her winnings), everyone had left except for Liara and Tali, who were chatting on the couch, and Garrus, who seemed to be waiting for her.

 

Shepard turned to him, her eyes sparkling. “Want to come up to the captain’s quarters and hold a tiebreaker?” she asked with a grin. “We could… improve interspecies relations,” she added suggestively.

 

“Wait,” Tali interjected from the other side of the room, sounding puzzled. “You weren’t tied,” she protested.

 

Shepard barely held in a laugh as she dragged Garrus out of the room. “Give it a minute, Tali, you’ll get there,” was all she would say, leaving the bewildered quarian in her wake.

 

One person on the Normandy got to see a naked turian that night, and she definitely didn’t have to use the extranet.

 

…


	54. Under Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She couldn’t keep herself from thinking it wasn’t fair. Shepard/Garrus, late ME3.

_You are the sole ray of hope in a very dark night._

 

Shepard couldn’t keep the asari councilor’s words out of her mind as she shot the head off of one target after another in the Spectre firing range across the hall from Udina’s office.

 

She hated them. All of them.

 

As if she needed one more person telling her that they were relying on her. As if she needed the extra pressure right now.

 

As if she didn’t already know that every goddamn person in the galaxy was relying on her to fix everything.

 

It started with Admiral Hackett, someone she had always looked up to. She wanted to do him proud, to complete every task he sent her way. But she began to resent him as he put demands on her that were beyond any reasonable kind of expectations, even in wartime. She was only one person, after all.

 

She was fairly certain that no one else had managed to remember that.

 

She let out a sigh as she looked out across the littered practice range, realizing she was running out of targets. She may as well stop wasting her time. She was stalling, ignoring the problem. This was one of those issues that couldn’t be solved with bullets.

 

Still filled with turmoil, Shepard packed up her things and headed back to the Normandy.

 

…

 

She called out reflexively when she heard the knock at her door. “Come in.”

 

“Shepard, I—“ The voice stopped short when she turned and saw Garrus standing in the doorway. “Never mind, Shepard, I’ll take care of it. You look like you need to get some rest.”

 

She bristled at his words. “I’m fine,” she said shortly. “What do you need?”

 

She turned back to her terminal to shut off her messages, but stilled her movements when she felt two hands come to rest on her shoulders. “I need you to get some sleep,” Garrus said, more gently than before.

 

Shepard sighed with annoyance. “I told you, I’m fine.” She stood up, removing a hand from her shoulder and walking away, out of his reach.

 

“When was the last time you slept?” he asked, in that authoritarian C-Sec voice he still used when he wanted answers.

 

“I don’t know,” Shepard said, picking up a datapad, anything to occupy her. Maybe if she looked busy, he would leave her alone.

 

Garrus took the datapad out of her hand. “You can’t keep using stims to stay up, Shepard,” he warned. Shepard finally looked up, and as she met his eyes she could see the concern in them. Anger and frustration bubbled up within her, but she caved to his demand.

 

“Fine,” she said with a glare, storming past him to the bedside table. She forcefully yanked open the drawer, rummaging through her things.

 

“God _damn_ it,” she muttered angrily. It was such a little thing, but so important.

 

“What is it?” he asked from behind her. A small item came flying over her shoulder towards him. He caught the pill bottle and held it up, examining the label.

 

“Sedatives?” he asked, glancing up at her before turning back to examine what he held in his hands. He shook it. It was empty.

 

She slammed the drawer shut before coming over to him. “If you go to Chakwas and get that refilled, I promise I’ll go to bed.” She crossed her arms and waited for his response.

 

“You’re taking these every time you sleep now?” he asked quietly, meeting her eyes.

 

She stared back, her eyes unwavering. “You think you could sleep if everyone in the galaxy kept telling you that you’re the only damn thing standing between them and the end of life as we know it?” She looked ready to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation, and Garrus couldn’t blame her for it.

 

He gave her a long look, taking in her appearance. The angry eyes, the sag in her shoulders, the strain written so clearly on her face—they told him everything he needed to know. “No. I couldn’t,” he responded quietly, sounding resigned. He sighed, and put a hand on her arm. “I’ll be back.”

 

As the door closed behind him, Shepard sat down on the bed, feeling drained. Frankly, it felt good to do some yelling and to finally let out this anger she’d been carrying around. But as a wave of exhaustion hit her, she began to think that Garrus might have been right.

 

She stripped down, wincing in pain as she uncovered more bruises than she remembered having. Maybe she had been overdoing it, but who wasn’t? It was wartime.

 

She let out a deep sigh as she slid into bed. It felt like years since she’d laid down at all. She couldn’t lie to herself—the reason she had been avoiding sleep was because of the nightmares that came so often now. She was busy, yes, but not so busy that she wasn’t able to make time for sleep. She simply couldn’t bear to go to bed when she knew all too well what was waiting for her when she closed her eyes. The sedatives could only do so much.

 

In spite of all her misgivings, she couldn’t stifle a yawn. She’d close her eyes while she waited for Garrus, she decided. It’s not like she had anything better to do.

 

When Garrus returned with the pills, he found her already sleeping. He was glad—she needed the rest so badly. They were all stressed and over-taxed, but Shepard had gotten the worst of it by a long shot. It wasn’t easy being a hero.

 

Coming up beside the bed, he looked her over. He couldn’t say he wasn’t worried. She’d been overworking herself, even by her own standards. He could tell so much from the map of her skin—the chafing of armor, the bruise in the crook of her shoulder from spending too much time on the firing range, freckles faded from lack of sun, a variety of scars that he could pinpoint and name. Garrus had to remind himself that humans bruised easily, like fruit, or else the many discolored markings on her skin would have caused him serious concern. But in spite of her battered appearance, her face finally looked peaceful, the lines of worry smoothed out by the escape of slumber.

 

He drank it in—seeing her peaceful, even if only in sleep, relieved more tension that he realized he’d been carrying. She wasn’t the only one who needed a break.

 

Garrus went to sit in a chair nearby, and sent a quick message down to Traynor to divert anything that needed Shepard’s attention to him. He was going to do everything he could to keep her from being disturbed. She deserved that much.

 

Though he had more important things to do than stand guard while Shepard slept, he decided to stay and do his work on his omni-tool. That way he could keep an eye on her and still work without interruption.

 

The thought suddenly occurred to him that she might not want him to stay. When she woke from a nightmare, which she often did these days,  she hated to have anyone see her weakness, even him. But, even though it meant risking her anger later, he didn’t want to leave her. It seemed like she could use a little looking-after these days, as much as she would deny it.

 

His mind made up, he settled in and got to work. If she needed anything, he’d be here.

 

…


	55. Reaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Thessia, Shepard needs to blow off some steam. A lot of it. Shepard/Garrus, ME3.

Shepard stared through her scope at the target, gaze unwavering. _Right between the eyes_ , she thought, carefully aligning her shot. She breathed in slowly, and just as she released her breath, she pulled the trigger.

 

Twelve rounds pounded through the practice dummy before the heat sink automatically popped from the Viper. All headshots. But Shepard did not stop to admire her work. She immediately reloaded and got off another dozen shots. She reloaded a second time and—

 

“What did the practice dummy ever do to you?”

 

Shepard spared the intruder a cursory glance before returning her focus to her target. Twelve rounds. Twelve headshots. She kept pulling the trigger after the heat sink had been spent.

 

She tossed the rifle to the ground with a loud clatter, and it skidded across the floor towards the intruder who leaned on the doorframe with crossed arms.

 

Shepard glared at the rifle and then at the intruder. “What the hell are you doing in here, Vakarian?” she snapped. “Last I saw, the door said Spectre on it.”

 

He ignored her question. “I thought you might need to talk,” he said, calm as ever.

 

“Talk?” she scoffed, pacing the room angrily. “What _I_ need is something to fight,” she said through gritted teeth. Shepard punched the wall in frustration, taking no notice of the dent she left as she continued stalking around the room.

 

“Feel like sparring, Commander?” he offered, and for the first time, Shepard really seemed to see him.

 

“No offense, Garrus, but once I get going I don’t think I’m going to be able to hold back,” she told him. Her hands were already balled up into tight fists.

 

Garrus came towards her. “What, you think I can’t take you?” he replied. Egging her on was a dangerous business, he knew, but she needed this.

 

The cold look she shot his way gave him pause, but he couldn’t back out now. “You’re on,” she said in a harsh whisper.

 

When the fight began, Shepard made the first move, an aggressive swing for his face. He dodged it easily. He had been, after all, one of the higher ranked hand-to-hand specialists in the turian military. He used her actions to gauge her state of mind. Anger and frustration drove every movement. She took another aggressive swing. This one connected, but left her open to attack. He didn’t take it.

 

Nothing escaped her notice. “I left you an opening, Vakarian,” she hissed through gritted teeth. She went in for another punch, but he blocked her. She grabbed him roughly, pulling their faces close. Her eyes bored into him as she spoke. “I didn’t think I’d have to worry about _you_ coddling me, Garrus.”

 

With a look that sent him reeling, she shoved him away, and they circled around each other like predators waiting to spring an attack.

 

Garrus spoke. “So who is it you really want to be fighting, Shepard? Kai Leng?”

 

She came at him with a growl, but he was ready. Their fight was like a choreographed dance, each action met with an equal but opposite reaction. Shepard made a misstep, and Garrus didn’t neglect his opening this time. With a properly placed punch, Shepard was thrown back, winded.

 

She came right back at him. “Kai Leng,” she spat out. “The reapers. The Illusive Man,” she listed. “The asari for hiding that fucking beacon until it was too late.” Her attacks became more aggressive and came more quickly with each word. “Liara for acting like no one ever lost a goddamn planet until the asari did.” She threw a punch that sent him reeling. His block had done nothing.

 

Shepard gave him no time to recover. “What the hell was Earth then?” she vented. “Palaven?” Her eyes burned with rage. “Tuchanka, Dekuuna, Sur’Kesh, Kahje, Khar’shan,” she listed rapid-fire, her body picking up speed as her words did. Garrus was fast, but he was beginning to have trouble keeping up with her. “Then what the _hell_ was Aratoht?” she cried.

 

Distracted by her emotional outburst, Garrus left himself open. The punch she threw had him on the ground, struggling to catch his breath.

 

Shepard stood over him her face contorted with anger. “What makes the asari so much more goddamn important than the rest of us?” she cried out, and in her rage she moved to attack him again. She landed another heavy blow. This was going too far, Garrus thought. Shepard wasn’t sparring anymore, she was in a blind rage. He dodged the next hit. If it had connected, she might have done some serious harm. It was easy to forget, with all her usual kindness and diplomacy, that she was one of the most deadly people in the galaxy.

 

If she’d actually wanted to kill him, he probably wouldn’t have had a chance.

 

The next time she swung for him, he caught her wrist. When she swung the other fist in wild anger, he grabbed that one as well. “Let me go,” she snarled, struggling against him.

 

She growled in frustration, but he held her fast. “Nothing,” he said.

 

 “What the hell are you talking about, Vakarian?” she demanded, struggling wildly.

 

“There’s nothing that makes the asari better than the rest of us,” Garrus answered. “Their world fell just like ours have.”

 

“But I could have saved Thessia!” Shepard cried, now having forgotten the sparring altogether. “Why did it have to be for nothing?”

 

This time when Shepard pulled back, he let her go. Suddenly drained, Shepard stepped backwards and dropped onto the window ledge to sit. “How do they do it, Garrus?” she asked, but seemed to expect no answer. “How are they always one step ahead?”

 

She was feeling so lost. Garrus could see it in her eyes, her body language, the undertone of every word she said. He came up to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

 

“We’ll get them,” he said quietly.

 

“Yeah,” Shepard replied with a sigh. She didn’t sound convinced.

 

She looked up at him and frowned. “Your head is bleeding.”

 

“The sparring got a little heated,” Garrus said with a shrug.

 

Only then did Shepard seem to realize what she’d done. “Garrus, I’m sorry… I told you I might not—”

 

“Shepard,” he cut her off. “It’s fine. I provoked you.”

 

“What? On purpose?” she said, eyes narrowing. “Why—” She broke off, pressing her lips together. She knew why.

 

After a moment, she stood to go. There was still tension in her shoulders, but not as much as only a few minutes prior. She met his eyes for just a second before walking past him. “Garrus… thanks.”

 

He gave her a small nod, his eyes following her as she left. “Anytime.”

 

…

 


	56. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The admirals have a talk about Shepard. ME3.

“Is there anything else, Admiral?” Hackett watched Anderson closely through the QE comm. He didn’t come this far in his career without being able to read people.

 

Admiral Hackett didn’t really have time for this. Since the reaper invasion, he’d taken on an immense amount of responsibility. There weren’t enough hours in the day to do everything he needed to do. But he respected Anderson and knew the admiral wouldn’t bother him over something unimportant.

 

Anderson shifted position. “It’s about Shepard,” he said.

 

Hackett gave him a nod to continue.

 

Anderson paced slightly. “I’m worried about her,” he confided. “She won’t admit it, but she’s starting to crack under the pressure. Something’s got to give, Admiral.”

 

Hackett let out a short, annoyed sigh. “I know, Anderson, but we’re in the middle of a war here. She’s needed.”

 

Anderson shook his head. “I’ve been talking to her crew. She’s on her way to a complete mental breakdown. You’re putting too much on her, Hackett!” he declared. “She’s only human.”

 

“I know,” Hackett said simply, and paced a few steps.

 

Hackett knew that Anderson cared about Shepard almost like a daughter. The admiral had always worried about her and kept an eye on her even when it wasn’t strictly his business to.

 

Hell, even Hackett himself cared about Shepard more than he did about the usual soldier. Of course, Shepard was far from the usual soldier. She was an exceptional soldier, and exceptional person besides.

 

He turned back to face Anderson. “I know what I’m doing to her, Admiral,” he said. “But I don’t have a damn choice,” he added harshly.

 

“The entire galaxy hangs in the balance, Anderson. You know the stakes,” Hackett reminded him. “If I have to sacrifice Shepard to save the rest of the galaxy, I will.” His shoulders sagged, and his voice dropped. “We all do what we have to.”

 

Anderson was quiet for a long moment before he spoke. “I understand, Admiral,” was his quiet reply, in a tone Hackett had never heard from him before.

 

With a small nod, Anderson cut the transmission.

 

Hackett went to a window, looking out into the void. He was only human, too.

 

And then he realized what it was he’d heard in Anderson’s voice.

 

Defeat. The same emotion he’d been fighting since this war began.

 

He stepped away from the window and straightened his uniform. He didn’t have time for reflection. He didn’t have time for emotion. He had a war to fight.

 

And that was all that mattered.

 

…

 


	57. Born For This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard gets a pep talk of her own. Shepard/Garrus, ME3.

“You were born to do this,” he tells you, and he knows how much weight those words carry with you.

 

It surprises you—usually you are the one giving the pep talks. Maybe he says it because this is the most scared he’s ever seen you.

 

Maybe it’s because he’s never seen you scared before.

 

You aren’t sure what to make of his words. To you, your life seems like a string of lucky coincidences and near misses.

 

Little Katherine Shepard, running away from home at just the right moment. Sky Shepard, too lucky to die with her platoon. Ava Shepard, brought back from the dead. As for Tempest Shepard, her tragedy hasn’t come yet. You don’t know if that is encouraging or if it should scare you.

 

You look back at him, and he’s watching you with those ever-observant eyes. You don’t believe in any kind of predestination or any great force looking out for you and guiding your life.

 

And yet somehow, a part of you believes he might be right.

 

“Let’s do this,” you say, pulling out your rifle. He gives you a nod before taking that first step out. You follow him, and the fear slips away.

 

You were born to do this.

 

…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Garrus doesn't say this line if you romance him, but I wrote this after seeing the trailer for ME3 back in the day. The line always stuck with me.
> 
> Please ignore anywhere the "Speak and Spell" note appears other than the chapther that actually refers to the "Speak and Spell". It's a glitch that I can't seem to get rid of.


	58. A Little Bit Selfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wants to be selfish in a way that she never has before. Shepard/Garrus, late ME3.

He looks surprised when you choose not to bring him with you. Angry. Afraid. He wants to be with you on this last push, and you can’t blame him. You take him everywhere. There’s no one you’d rather have watching your back.

 

But, damn it, you’re scared.

 

If you live through this, you don’t want to be alone.

 

You know that you shouldn’t let your personal life get in the way of the mission, especially now, on the most important mission of your life. But haven’t you earned the right to be a little bit selfish?

 

Just this once.

 

…


	59. Bitter Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t how she wanted this to end. ME3 finale.

For months you’ve looked forward to your revenge.

 

You’ve thought about this moment a hundred times if you’ve thought of it once—the moment that you finally meet the Illusive Man face-to-face.

 

But this isn’t the moment you’ve been planning for. That moment will never arrive.

 

By the time you finally stand in front of him, you are too tired for hate anymore.

 

Even if you were not, you would find no satisfaction in this. You see him before you—indoctrinated, broken, and utterly destroyed—and more than anything, you pity him.

 

You have no less desire to kill him than you had before, but his death is no longer revenge. It’s mercy.

 

In the end it is he himself who pulls the trigger, just like Saren three years prior. Then, as now, there was no satisfaction to be had. There is no ‘sweet’ victory.

 

Everything comes at a cost.

 

…

 


	60. Can't Give Up On Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stranded on a planet they cannot identify, the Normandy crew knows only that the war is over—and that the Citadel was destroyed when Shepard activated the Crucible. But one person cannot accept that she is gone forever. Shepard/Garrus, end of ME3.

Communications were down, but that was the least of their problems.

 

The Normandy’s crash landing had done little cosmetic damage to their ship, but all the electronics had gone haywire, and, most alarmingly, EDI was inexplicably offline.

 

They didn’t have any idea where they had landed. The relay reacted with the Crucible as they passed through, sending them hurtling towards a planet they could not identify, not without their instruments.

 

While the bulk of the military force was intended to rendezvous in the Horse Head Nebula, the Normandy had ended up in another star cluster. Their best guess was that it might be Hades Gamma, but there was no telling after how the relay reacted to the Crucible’s wave of energy.

 

They could do no more than make educated guesses until their equipment was repaired—they couldn’t even connect to the extranet.

 

The Normandy crew had immediately begun work to repair the damage the ship had sustained. No one seemed to really take charge; everyone understood what needed to be done, and they independently formed groups to work on each of their problems. The Normandy had one leader, and now that she was gone, none could fill her shoes.

 

Tali and Engineer Adams worked tirelessly with Ken and Gabby to repair the Normandy’s electronics, and, most importantly, bring the drive core back online.

 

Cortez oversaw most of the physical repairs, giving orders to any of the crew that could help. Non-critical damage was left as-is while they focused their energy on making the most essential repairs.

 

Traynor and Liara conferred about how best to get the communications back online, instructing crew members as they made repairs to the comm equipment, hoping that once it was working they would get a signal. Without any link to the outside world, they had no way of finding out what was going on—or even if the Crucible had even truly worked.

 

There was one person who knew the Normandy inside and out, but he didn’t have the heart to help. Joker had sustained several injuries in the jarring crash, and, though Chakwas said he would make a full recovery, he was too distraught over losing EDI to make any efforts towards either his own recovery or helping the Normandy get back in flying shape.

 

But all of these things paled in comparison to their discovery that the mass relay they’d come through was in pieces.

 

No one knew how to fix a mass relay—no one totally understood how they worked.

 

The only known relay to be destroyed was the one that Shepard took out in batarian space, and no one had made any attempts towards trying to repair it, not with the reapers in the system.

 

Garrus recalled the words of the asari bartender he met on Illium little more than a year ago. _When I suggested that we should start building new mass relays, they practically laughed the blue off my ass._

 

If only they had listened.

 

…

 

Garrus felt out of place on the Normandy since the crash. No one had asked for his help, and none of the things that most needed fixing were his areas of expertise. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with his time, but he needed to find something to do, a distraction from the dark thoughts that filled his mind. But no one was willing to give him anything to work on, and their damned sympathetic eyes told him exactly why.

 

“Give me something to do,” Garrus demanded as he marched up to Tali in the engine room.

 

She brushed off her hands and turned to him. “Garrus,” she began gently, “No one’s going to make you work after what’s happened. We understand.”

 

Frustration bubbled up from within him. “Damn it, Tali, I don’t want sympathy, I want to help!” he yelled. “If everyone wants to be so ‘understanding’ than can you try to understand that I might need a spirits-damned distraction?”

 

Tali, shocked by his words and tone, took a moment to think. She hated to make him work just now. They were all hurting from losing Shepard, but Tali couldn’t begin to imagine what Garrus was going through. Her heart was breaking for him, just thinking about it. She sighed. If work was what he really wanted, she wouldn’t keep him from it.

 

“Go see if Liara has anything for you,” she told him finally. “She was trying to get her equipment working. If she doesn’t need you, then come back and check with me again and I can find you something.”

 

He turned on his heel with no acknowledgement of her words, heading for the elevator. Tali sighed as she watched him go. She was worried about him. It was as if he’d put up a wall around himself the moment they had seen the Citadel crumble with Shepard on it, and no matter what they did, no one could get past it to help him.

 

He didn’t have to be alone in this, but he was.

 

…

 

Liara glanced at the turian out of the corner of her eye. She did have a few things he could do, but she, like Tali, was reluctant to put him to work.

 

She turned, taking a few steps to close the gap between them, and put a gentle hand on his arm. “Garrus, I’m so sorry.” Her eyes were warm and kind, but he pulled away.

 

“Do you have work for me or not?” he asked impatiently.

 

Liara backed away with a sigh. “I have a couple of things,” she told him, giving in.

 

She motioned him over to her work console, all of her video feeds now dark. “I’d like you to take a look, see if you can get any of my feeds up so we can find out what’s going on out there.”

 

He gave her a sharp nod, and moved to get started. But Liara put up a hand to stop him. “There is one other thing that needs to be done, but I can do it if you would rather not.” Her voice was gentle.

 

She looked up at him, and he could see that unbearable pity in her eyes once again. “Someone needs to go down to Cortez and ask him to make four more nameplates for the memorial wall.” The turian’s throat constricted as she named them. “One for Anderson,” she said softly, “One for Javik, one for James, and one for Shepard.” Liara’s voice shook slightly on the last few words. She was hurting too. They all were.

 

“I’ll do it,” Garrus said simply, and left.

 

…

 

Cortez stood at his workbench in the armory. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said softly to Garrus as the turian approached.

 

Garrus ignored the statement. “We need you to make four more nameplates for the wall,” he said. “For Javik, James, Admiral Anderson, and for Shepard.”

 

Cortez nodded, understanding the turian’s desire not to talk. He knew what it was like to experience loss.

 

“What was the Admiral’s first name?” he asked, pulling out the materials he needed.

 

“David,” Garrus recalled.

 

Cortez nodded, and then paused. “I’m not sure I ever knew Shepard’s first name either, actually.”

 

Garrus’ heart ached. To the world she was simply Shepard; her first name was private, chosen for herself with a meaning only she fully understood. To call her by it was a privilege, gifted rarely, and only to those she trusted most. He only used it in their most intimate moments, and even then, sparingly.

 

“Don’t put her first name,” Garrus said suddenly. “She was always changing it,” he explained, and then, in a softer voice,  “I want them to remember all of her, not just the person she was when she…” He couldn’t say it. Everyone else was saying it, _died_ , as if they knew for sure.

 

He’d seen the Citadel crumble just like anyone else, but he couldn’t make himself believe. It was too hard. She _couldn’t_ be dead—she was Commander Shepard, the one woman who always beat the odds. He loved her, and he couldn’t give up on his last hope, no matter how small a hope it was. He couldn’t.

 

…

 

Garrus stood at the memorial wall, holding Shepard’s nameplate in his hands.

 

Admiral Anderson’s name was already displayed proudly in a place of honor. He had been their first captain, a man who had given up everything, first for Shepard, then for Earth, and, in the end, for the galaxy. James and Javik’s names, too, had been placed, to honor the sacrifice they had made.

 

In his hands lay the name of another person who had given up everything. She had endured tragedy time and time again, and pushed past it and beyond to make sure no one else ever had to. She was a woman who put others before herself, always took on more than her share of trouble, and never complained or backed out. She was indomitable. She was a hero. No matter what, she _never_ gave up. Garrus looked down at the nameplate and stepped forward shakily. He took a deep breath and moved to place it, but hesitated. After a long moment, his hands dropped.

 

“I can’t do this,” he said.

 

Liara stepped up behind him to put a hand on his shoulder. “Garrus…”

 

He turned abruptly, knocking away Liara’s arm in the process, and looked her straight in the eye. When he spoke, his words were slow and determined. “She’s _not_ dead.”

 

Everyone stared after him in silent shock as he stormed away.

 

…

 

“Garrus…” The voice was Tali’s. “What are you doing?”

 

He didn’t even look up. “Trying to get Liara’s network up, or at least trying to get a connection to the extranet.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “Even if we can’t get off this damn rock, we can make sure _someone_ goes after her.”

 

Tali watched him working with his characteristic intensity, seeing a new determination in him that hadn’t been there before. Something about his expression, resolute and firm, made her inexplicably feel that maybe, just maybe, he could be right.

 

“I’m going back to work on the drive core,” Tali said suddenly, moving for the door immediately. “We’ll get her running soon, Garrus. I promise.”

 

She didn’t wait for his response as she marched out, now as determined as he was to make this happen. They were getting off that planet, and they were going to do it soon.

 

…

 

Though the Normandy crew had redoubled their efforts, they only got so far with their repairs.

  
They had gotten most of the electronics into working order, but no one could figure out how to reactivate the mass effect core. Tali, who had been pushing everyone since talking to Garrus, insisted that they should shift their focus on getting the communication systems up and running, in hopes that those efforts would bear more fruit than their work on the engine.

 

There were several people gathered around the QEC as Traynor tried to explain the problem.

 

“I’ve done everything I can on our end,” she told them, her voice hesitant. “The only thing I can think of is that the networks themselves are down. Depending on where we are, it could take a very long time to get any signal.” She wrung her hands.

 

The faces around her looked troubled, but then something happened that several crew members always maintained to be no less than a miracle. The empty silence streaming from the comm was interrupted by a sudden burst of static.

 

Traynor turned around to stare at it. “Oh my God,” she uttered involuntarily.

 

Without a word, she started scrambling at the console, checking emergency channels, pressing buttons, and putting out a general call for aid. “This is the Alliance SSV Normandy, requesting aid,” she spoke into the comm. She paused, waiting for a response, the room deathly silent.

 

“SSV Normandy requesting aid,” she repeated, and again, there was silence.

 

After a long pause, she tried again. “This is the Alliance SSV Normandy requesting—”  


Suddenly, a static-ridden voice burst forth from the comm unit. “Roger, Normandy. Stand by for transfer to Alliance Command.”

 

The room was silent, as if no one dared to breathe while they waited. As if is was too good to be true after experiencing only disappointment for so long.

 

“Normandy, this is Alliance Command. Requesting situation report,” came the crackling voice from the comm.

 

Traynor took a deep breath. “Our ship crash-landed on an uncharted world that we’ve confirmed to be in the Hades Gamma cluster. Both our drive core and the mass relay are inoperable. We are requesting aid,” she said nervously.

 

The response was immediate. “Copy that. Do you have an engineer on board?”

 

“We have several,” Traynor replied, wondering where this was going.

 

“Patch them in. We are transferring you to our technicians, who will walk you through the repairs.” Everyone turned to each other, staring in amazement. After all this time, all their work, could it really be that easy?

 

“I’ll head down immediately,” Tali said, once Traynor had patched her in. The others just stood where they were, still in shock. The nightmare was over. They were saved.

 

…

 

Over the course of the next few days, they learned much about what had happened elsewhere.

 

While they had been out of communications, the quarians had figured out how to reactivate the geth—and then the geth had figured out how to repair the mass relays, aided by the Crucible’s vast science team. People of all races across the galaxy worked tirelessly to get society back up and running, from the large network of quantum entanglement communicators to the smallest transport ship’s navigation systems.

 

Several ships arrived from a neighboring star system to help repair the mass relay, a massive undertaking made significantly easier by their newly arrived aid. But all the while, Garrus could not feel relief.

 

He had asked over and over about Shepard. Was she alive? Had anyone gone to search for her? But he found no answers. Those he spoke to had no information on the matter, and those who might know were far too busy to speak with him. The mounting tension he felt constantly threatened to surface as he waited impatiently for the mass relay to be completed, hanging on to a desperate hope that she was out there somewhere. She had to be.

 

…

 

The mass relay came back online nineteen standard galactic days after the battle on Earth. Garrus had been counting.

 

Joker, too, had been counting. Once he heard that the quarians had been able to reactivate the geth, he was determined to make sure that EDI would be brought back as well. When the relay lit up, he was in his chair, ready to fly once again.

 

When they arrived at the rendezvous, they were all taken to be debriefed. Garrus was frustrated and impatient. Every other sentence out of his mouth was to ask about Shepard, but no one would answer him. All information on her was classified, they told him, and Garrus was deathly afraid of what that might mean.

 

It was Admiral Hackett himself who finally gave them the news.

 

He stood in front of the assembled crew, tall and grave. He was a busy man, but he had made time to see them. He did it for her. As he looked around, he could read the anxiety, the sadness, the pain on their faces. She was more to them than just their commander, and they deserved to know.

 

“Commander Shepard,” he began slowly, “is in critical condition at a military hospital in London.” There were gasps and whispers as the news sunk in among the crew.

 

He put up his hands to silence them. “I’m granting you leave to return to the Sol system. While I do this as a courtesy, I also expect you to aid in their clean-up and rebuilding efforts on the ground in London. I will give the coordinates to Flight Lieutenant Moreau so that you can head there immediately. Dismissed.”

 

Garrus felt lightheaded, hardly noticing the hugging, crying, and excitement all around him. He’d been waiting and worrying for so long that he could hardly believe what he’d heard. But the tightness in his chest wouldn’t relent—and he knew that until he saw her with his own eyes, he would not, could not, feel true relief.

 

…

 

Garrus had been pacing for hours. They had finally reached the hospital where Shepard was being treated, a crowded place with far too many patients and not enough doctors. The nervous orderly who was assigned to them looked like he had been pulled straight from the classroom. The young man stopped them just before the last door on the hallway.

 

The orderly looked uncomfortable as he turned to speak to the group. When he hesitated, worry burst forth from Garrus. “What’s going on? Why are we stopping?,” he demanded. “Is she…”

 

The orderly put up his hands to stop him. When he spoke, his voice was hesitant. “Shepard is alive, but—”

 

And the orderly didn’t have the chance to say another word. Garrus pushed past him and barged into the room, leaving the others watching with wide eyes. As the door closed behind him, a doctor stepped forward. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

 

Garrus felt a growl in his throat as he fought the instinct to rip the man limb from limb. But before he got the chance to do anything, a machine started beeping.

 

“Shit,” the doctor uttered as he ran over to check the machine. He turned to another doctor who had been working on the other side of the room. “Increase the anesthetic. She’s waking up!”

 

“What?” the second doctor said. “But she’s already at maximum dosage! Her blood pressure—” she protested.

 

The first doctor shouted over her. “—will be the least of our problems if she wakes up now!”

 

Garrus, rooted to the spot, could do nothing but watch. He heard a low moan from Shepard’s lips, and saw her eyelids fluttering and fingers beginning to twitch.

 

The second doctor did as she was ordered, and after a moment, the beeping stopped, as did Shepard’s movements. The two doctors hurriedly checked the equipment and monitors, and the first let out a sigh of relief at his findings. “Stable, for now,” he stated.

 

He then turned his attention back to the turian who stood just inside the room, staring at the woman in the hospital bed with an expression he immediately recognized.

 

“You may stay,” the doctor relented, “if you do not disturb her. Press the call button if there is a problem.”

 

Garrus nodded, and the two doctors took their leave. As they did, he slowly approached the bed.

 

Shepard looked smaller than he remembered.

 

There seemed to be dozens of wires and tubes attached to her body, connecting to a multitude of machines that he could not identify. She was battered and bruised all over, to the point that Garrus was afraid to touch her. He examined every exposed inch of her, though much of her body was immobilized in casts. It hurt to see her this way.

 

He kept watch over Shepard, still but for her breathing, unable to tear himself from her side. Garrus wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he stood sentry over her. Eventually he heard the door open and soft footsteps make their way towards him.

 

When he glanced up, he saw Chakwas picking up Shepard’s patient file. “I needed to see her for myself,” she explained quietly.

 

He turned his attention back to Shepard as the doctor read through the file. Chakwas frowned slightly, then moved to scan Shepard with her omni-tool.

 

As she did so, a nurse came in. “I’m sorry,” the nurse said, “but I’ve been asked to remove you from the room. Commander Shepard isn’t supposed to have visitors yet.” Garrus and Chakwas both looked up sharply at her words, the doctor bristling immediately.

 

“Shepard needs to be under my care. I am her primary physician, and I want her on the Normandy,” Chakwas ordered. The nurse hesitated, but the doctor’s eyes were hard as steel. “Now.”

 

…

 

Getting Shepard back onto the Normandy was a tricky proposition. Taking her off the machines could kill her, but Chakwas was insistent that they find a way to have her moved.

 

“She needs to be here, not in some overcrowded hospital with distracted doctors,” she had explained. She didn’t trust Shepard’s care to anyone else.

 

Once the painstaking process of having Shepard moved was complete, Chakwas immediately called Liara down. “Find me Miranda Lawson and get her here any way you can,” she ordered. “And I need to speak to Admiral Hackett.”

 

She turned back to Shepard as soon as Liara was out of the room. Garrus stood there, hovering, as the doctor did a more thorough examination of Shepard’s injuries.

 

When she had finished, Chakwas sighed. “It doesn’t look good, Garrus,” she began. “She needs surgery, and lots of it, if she’s going to make it through this.” Garrus felt his chest constrict at her words.

 

But then she looked up and met his eyes. “But,” she considered, “Shepard has always been a fighter. I think… I think she’ll make it, Garrus.”

 

Garrus closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. She was alive, and she was going to make it. In his mind he repeated it like a mantra.

 

“Doctor Chakwas?” came Traynor’s voice from the comm unit.

 

“Yes?” the doctor promptly responded.

 

“I’ve got Admiral Hackett for you on the QEC,” she told her.

 

“I’ll be right there,” Chakwas confirmed.

 

Before leaving the room, she turned to Garrus who was standing next to Shepard’s bed, watching the commander sleep. His hand rested on the edge of the bed just next to Shepard’s, as if he wanted to hold it but didn’t dare.

 

Chakwas placed her hand over his, and caught his eye. “Stay with her as long as you like,” she said gently, and at his nod, she stepped away, her shoes clacking on the floor until the door shut behind her.

 

Looking around, Garrus found a chair, pulling it up to sit by the bed.

 

He would keep vigil over her for as long as needed, as long as it took for her to be well again. He wouldn’t give up on her. Couldn’t.

 

She never gave up, so neither would he.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we move into the post-canon section of this story! I'm very excited to share what I've written for this.


	61. Vigil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He won’t leave her side. Shepard/Garrus, post-ME3.

She watched him as he watched Shepard.

 

He didn’t notice the crew peeking through the windows and whispering to each other. Nor did he notice the doctor coming and going quietly, the meals that were brought to him, the friends that sat silently by his side from time to time. He was unaware of anything but the slow, steady breathing of the woman who might not wake up.

 

But she saw and heard everything.

 

She noted his lack of sleep, the missed meals, the way he refused to leave the sleeping woman’s side.

 

She knew he could not go on this way. She could not calculate the precise amount of time that he could hold out, but something needed to be done before he reached that point. She asked those closest to him to take his place at Shepard’s side so that he could sleep. She had catalogued his favorite meal and had it sent to him.

 

But he would not move.

 

A part of her puzzled over this. He knew that sitting by Shepard’s side would not help her wake. It would not heal her more quickly. He was aware that his disregard for his own well-being was an unwise choice, and that the woman in question would be angry with him if she knew. But he did not deviate from his course, no matter how many attempted to persuade him otherwise.

 

She knew, though she did not entirely understand, that love was the cause for this irrational behavior.

 

She had seen it in vids, read about it in books, and secretly observed others as she looked to understand this emotion, one she still could not fully comprehend.

 

To care for someone—even above one’s own life—was something she understood. She had an ever-growing list of those for whom she would gladly sacrifice herself. But to care—love—one so deeply that all logic was abandoned? Even with all her knowledge and resources, this was something she realized she might never figure out.

 

She considered what actions she could take. She already had access to Shepard’s medical equipment, ever alerted to any change in her status. She had been keeping an account of his eating and sleeping, doing what little she could to aid in these matters. She contemplated speaking to him, but refrained; her inexperience with emotions such as his held her back. She could not relate, and he would not listen.

 

She attempted to convince others to talk to him, but nothing they said did any good. She needed to find a way to help Shepard by helping him, and could come up with little besides force and subterfuge, neither of which were viable courses of action. She was surprised by the frustration this caused within her, but easily identified the cause: She, one with such infinite resources, ought to be capable of finding a way.

 

She contemplated the situation longer than she usually spent on any one matter, but the conclusion she came to was dissatisfying and uncomfortably illogical. And yet, it was her only viable option.

 

She had to speak with him.

 

“Garrus, may I have a word?” she asked.

 

He started and frowned slightly, turning towards her voice. “EDI?”

 

She had considered carefully what to say to him. She must not force the issue, she could not falsely relate. She would only provide support in the ways she was capable of, but she was still uncertain of her reception. There was no formula for dealing with love.

 

“I wanted you to know that I am monitoring Shepard’s life signs as well as keeping my visual sensors focused on her at all times,” she told him, then explained her purpose. “If you wish to take a break for sleep or sustenance, I can alert you to any change within a tenth of a second.”

 

The turian shifted positions, his physical discomfort obvious. “Thanks, EDI,” he replied, “But I’d rather stay with Shepard.”

 

She was silent for a moment before deciding to speak, her tone lower and more compassionate this time. “She would want you to take care of yourself, Garrus.”

 

He appeared to consider her words. She predicted that he would realize the truth in them, but love was an anomaly. She— _hoped_ —that he would realize the truth in her words.

 

Finally, he stood.

 

“I’m going to take a rest in one of the infirmary beds,” he told her. “Wake me immediately if anything happens.” His words were brusque, but she noted the undertone of gratitude that belied them.

 

“Understood, Garrus,” she responded. She watched him as he climbed onto the bed nearest Shepard, taking a long look at her before settling into a comfortable position.

 

He glanced back towards her voice. “One tenth of a second?” he asked.

 

“One tenth of a second,” she confirmed. And with that, he seemed to relax. His eyes closed, and his breathing slowed into a steady pace in accordance with her knowledge of turian sleeping patterns.

 

She devoted more processors towards monitoring Shepard than were strictly necessary. She knew there was no reason to do this. The odds of malfunction were low, and she had backup processors in triplicate. She would take no chance to betray the fragile trust he had placed in her, but, even so, this was an overreaction. Illogical. And yet, every time she searched for an answer, she found only what she already knew. She would not allow his trust to be misplaced, for Shepard’s sake, and for his own. For once, she decided to let the matter rest and to be content with not knowing.

 

All that mattered was this: As long as he kept his vigil, so would she.

 

For a split second, a single processor busied itself, and one more name was added to the list of those she would sacrifice herself for.

 

…


	62. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s finally over. Shepard/Garrus, post-ME3.

When you see her eyelids begin to flutter, you steel yourself.

 

The other times she woke up, she had been incoherent and crying out in pain, unable to recognize you or anything in the world around her. The medical coma she’s been under has been hard to maintain due to her cybernetic implants, Chakwas explained.

 

Once Miranda had arrived, things went more smoothly—her knowledge of Shepard’s implants helped Chakwas determine how to treat her. And since Admiral Hackett made sure they had all the equipment they needed, Chakwas and Miranda had been able to care for Shepard in the peace of the Normandy’s sick bay, in quiet instead of chaos. The hospitals were all under-staffed and over-crowded, but even if they hadn’t been, you couldn’t imagine Chakwas handing over Shepard’s care to anyone else.

 

Earlier today Miranda and Chakwas finally agreed to dial down the drugs and let her wake naturally, after weeks of this hellish limbo. But you can’t allow yourself to get your hopes up. You’ve been warned that when she finally wakes, she will probably be disoriented and confused, maybe for some time. She may not remember what happened. She may not remember you, or even her own name.

 

Considering the amount of trauma her body has gone through, none of this should be surprising, but you just can’t reconcile yourself with the idea, an idea that haunts your sleeping and waking hours equally. She’s Commander Shepard, damn it. Shouldn’t she be able to overcome this?

 

You watch as she shifts in her sleep, a slight moan escaping her lips. She’s in pain, you realize. You ought to get Chakwas, but when her eyes open fully, all thoughts come to a halt.

 

Her eyes dart around, panicked and confused like before, when she wasn’t supposed to wake. Your heart sinks. But then those blue eyes come to focus on you, and you see a bit of clarity in her expression for the first time since you said goodbye, just before she left you behind to take that final charge.

 

“Garrus,” she whispers hoarsely, and a mix of shock and relief flows through you. You fumble on the table beside you for the glass of water Chakwas left, your hands shaking as you lift it to her lips.

 

As you set the cup down, her brow furrows slightly, and a question slips out. “Am I dead?”

 

Your heart aches, but you try to overcome it, to be yourself for her. You take her hand in yours and squeeze it, remembering to be gentle. “I promised you a bar in the afterlife, not the Normandy’s sick bay.” You add, more softly, “You’re alive, Shepard. You made it.”

 

She looks around to confirm her location, wincing as she moves her head. “Try not to move too much,” you instruct. “I can get Chakwas to check you over, get you something for the pain.”

 

Her fingers clench around yours with surprising strength. “No,” she says forcefully. She closes her eyes. “Tell me what happened. Please.”

 

You take a deep breath, trying to figure out where to start. “Hackett had lost contact with you,” you tell her. “He was ready to send another team to try to go after you when the Crucible lit up.”

 

You pause for a moment, wondering if she’s even still awake. Her eyes stay closed, but she prompts you to go on. “And then?”

 

“We tried to come for you,” you say, a lump forming in your throat. “But Hackett ordered everyone away. We barely made it as the Crucible went off. There was this… wave. Some kind of frequency. It went out from the Citadel and spread through the mass relay system, from what we can tell. It was incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 

“The reapers?” she questions softly.

 

“Deactivated,” you tell her.

 

You take another deep breath. You know what it is that she wants to know, but this part is hard to tell. “The Citadel itself, well… the entire Citadel was badly damaged, and the Council tower just,” you breath catches in your throat, “It crumbled. That’s… that’s where you were. That’s where the Alliance marines found you.”

 

Your heart aches as you remember watching the Citadel crumble, as you remember your weeks of uncertainty stranded light years away, as you remember being told she had spent three days under the rubble before being found.

 

“How bad?” she asks, and you sigh.

 

You don’t want to tell her, but you can’t lie to her either. “You lost a lot of blood. Broken bones, burns, gunshot wounds, head trauma… You’ve been in a coma for more than a month, Shepard.” Your voice is quiet and choked. It’s agony to relive those moments that she was suspended between life and death, when you didn’t know if she would make it. It’s surreal to be telling her this now, when only minutes earlier you were afraid she wouldn’t remember her own name.

 

She opens her eyes for a moment, hers meeting your own. “I’m sorry,” she says softly, and quickly looks away.

 

“Don’t be,” you tell her firmly. “I ordered you to stay alive, and you did. You didn’t make any promise about what condition you’d come back to me in.” You try to make light of it—you don’t want her to know just how worried you’ve been all this time. The last thing she needs right now is to be concerned about you.

 

“Did everyone else make it out okay?” she asks, looking suddenly troubled.

 

You can’t meet her eyes. “The ground team, James and Javik… they didn’t make it.”

 

When you look back at her, she has a look in her eye that you recognize. The self-blame, the distancing, the anger. That thing she does instead of becoming sad. “James was going into the N7 program,” she tells you softly. “Javik will never know that we beat the reapers.”

 

You don’t know what to say. Javik was difficult to get along with, but you had liked James. He was a good kid, with a future that had been cut far too short. You want to comfort her, to take her into your arms, but her injuries are too severe. You give her hand another light squeeze, knowing there is not much else you can do. “I’m sorry,” is all you are able to say.

 

She sighs, not looking at you. “That’s war. People die.”

 

“It’s over now,” you reassure her. You just hope that she can move on. You have to remind yourself that you’ve had time to get used to everything, while the battle must still feel like yesterday to her.

 

She tries to shift position, but grimaces in pain. You berate yourself for not calling for the doctor earlier. “I’ll have Chakwas get you something,” you tell her. “She ought to look you over now that you’re awake.”

 

“Don’t go,” she orders, sounding like the commander she is, though she is in no position to enforce her words. She grips your hand tightly, as if she is afraid you are an apparition that will slip away the moment she closes her eyes.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assure her. You turn towards the comm unit. “EDI, can you let Chakwas know that Shepard is up?” you call. It feels odd to talk to her through the ship now that you’ve gotten so used to her having a body, but EDI never minds.

 

The AI promptly responds. “Right away, Garrus.”

 

You turn back to Shepard, but you are stopped short by the look on her face. “What is it?” you ask, and then it dawns on you. Somehow, she knows.

 

“You knew the Crucible would affect all AI,” you say, confused as to how she could have possibly known.

 

She doesn’t meet your eyes. “Yes.”

 

You begin to put the pieces together. “You feel responsible.”

 

“I _am_ responsible,” she responds quietly, guilt clear in her voice and expression.

 

You squeeze her hand slightly. “It wasn’t permanent, Shepard. We were able to bring them back.”

 

She gives you a nearly imperceptible nod, but says nothing. Her eyes, on the other hand, speak quite clearly of the turmoil inside her.

 

“What happened up there?” you can’t help asking. It’s clear that there was more to this than you knew or ever could have guessed.

 

She shakes her head, wincing at the movement. “Not now, Garrus,” she says quietly, her eyes silently begging you to let it go. You give her a nod, and she visibly relaxes.

 

You both lapse into silence, waiting for the doctor. She seems lost in thought, so you take the chance to observe her, taking in every detail with new appreciation in spite of her battered appearance. You came so close to losing her.

 

You never thought you would find a human beautiful, yet you’ve come to appreciate those expressive human eyes, the shine of her red hair that feels like silk, the way her skin is mapped out with freckles. But it’s not just her looks—it’s the way she carries herself, the expression that fills her eyes when she looks at you, her fluid movements as she wields her biotics. It’s the strength of muscle under a layer of smooth, soft skin, the illusion of fragility that belies her innate strength.

 

Chakwas enters the med bay, interrupting your thoughts. “I’m glad to see you awake, Commander. You gave us all a scare.” You can hear the suppressed relief in the doctor’s voice. She doesn’t need you to tell her why she was called—she immediately pulls something from a drawer to inject into the IV line. Some of the strain smoothes out of Shepard’s features almost immediately as Chakwas administers the pain relief.

 

After checking her over quickly with her omni-tool, Chakwas quietly slips out again. Only then do you realize that EDI must have woken her. Night and day don’t have much meaning in space, but the Normandy runs on Earth time, a 24-hour clock. Most of the crew is probably sleeping. To be honest, you are glad that the crew isn’t awake. There are so many people that had asked to see Shepard when she woke up, but you would rather keep her to yourself for a while longer.

 

But when you look down and see how tired she looks, you realize you are being selfish. She needs rest—and you have the rest of your life to keep her to yourself now.  “You should go back to sleep,” you tell her gently. “There’s a whole galaxy full of people who will want to see you in the morning.”

 

She closes her eyes and makes a face you interpret as annoyance. “Who?” she asks.

 

“Hmm,” you begin, trying to remember the full list. “Well, Admiral Hackett asked to see you as soon as you were up. The Council is waiting to hear from you so they can plan some kind of ceremony or something in your honor, and the entire Normandy crew has been dying to be allowed in here. Not to mention the press, all your friends, and your ever-growing fan club. In short, most of the galaxy.”

 

She gives you a small smile. “As long as I don’t have to wear a dress to this ceremony thing.”

 

A bit of the tension eases from your chest, and you laugh, for the first time in what feels like forever. “I’ll do what I can.”

 

She yawns, and you give her hand another squeeze. “Go to sleep, Shepard. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

“Thanks,” she says softly, her blue eyes fluttering closed. It feels odd to be the one giving orders and reassurance, but she’s been strong for you so many times that it’s all you can do to return the favor.

 

You’re exhausted, and your back hurts from sitting in this damn chair for so long, but even a reaper couldn’t take you from her side just now. You lost her once, nearly three years ago now, and it almost happened again.

 

But now, right now, she’s here. She’s alive. And that’s all you can ask for.

 

…

 


	63. Big Damn Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and her crew are honored at a ceremony and banquet, where Shepard meets the Vakarians, and things take an interesting turn. Shepard/Garrus, post-ME3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written before we knew the "canon" name of Garrus's father. I've left it as-is instead of changing it.

The planning for the ceremony started the very day Shepard woke up.

 

The Citadel council wanted to honor all those who had been instrumental in fighting the reapers, but Shepard most of all. It would be one part solemn memorial, one part awards ceremony, and one part fancy party for the ‘elite’ of the galaxy. Frankly, Shepard thought it was a bit disgusting, but the council was hardly known for their sensitivity.

 

It took time, of course, to plan such a momentous undertaking. At the end of the war, the Citadel had hardly been in any condition to house life at all, much less a grand event. But the council, insistent upon regaining some form of normalcy, worked hard to get the Citadel ready. Of course, there were other reasons to delay the ceremony as well—such as the recovery of their guest of honor.

 

That point in particular was a frustrating one, at least to a certain commander who had been confined to bed or a wheelchair for the majority of the time since she’d awoken.

 

Though Doctor Chakwas and her physical therapist were quite happy with her progress, Shepard was frustrated. After Project Lazarus, she had been fighting off assault mechs within minutes of waking up. But in spite of her cybernetic upgrades, her many injuries and time in bed had left her infuriatingly weak. She had only really been on her feet for a few weeks by the time the ceremony rolled around.

 

And though she hated the idea of everyone seeing her in this weakened state, there was one thing about the ceremony and subsequent banquet that she hated even more—she had been all but ordered to wear a dress to the damn thing.

 

She argued formidably for someone who had been confined to bed during the argument, but the Council maintained that this was a formal banquet, and proper attire would be required. No number of accusations of sexism, regressive attitudes, or antiquated rules would make them budge. Shepard would know. She tried them all.

 

So she turned to her friend Liara. Shepard hadn’t bought a dress for herself in more years than she cared to remember, but she’d seen Liara wear dresses a couple of times. So she put herself in the asari’s hands.

 

At first Liara had suggested going shopping in the wards, but Shepard vetoed that idea immediately. She hated shopping, and there was no way in hell Chakwas was going to let her attempt that much walking anyhow. So Liara attempted a different angle. She would take Shepard’s measurements to a dressmaker, and have something custom made. Shepard found this to be a much more palatable idea, on the strict condition that there would be no ruffles or lace.

 

When Liara finally brought the hated garment to her, Shepard gave it her grudging approval. For a dress, she had to admit that it wasn’t _so_ bad. It wasn’t too girly and it hid the scars, and that was about the best she could ask for. So Shepard moved on to worrying about other things—namely the bombshell Garrus had just dropped on her. She’d be meeting his family at this ceremony.

 

Garrus had not told his father or sister about his relationship with Shepard, so they would be meeting _and_ finding out about their relationship all at one time. Shepard couldn’t say she was looking forward to it.

 

But no matter what else could be said about the Council’s awards ceremony, it certainly promised to be a night to remember.

 

…

 

Garrus was trying really, _really_ hard not to let Shepard see how worried he was about meeting up with his dad and sister.

 

Garrus and his father had a rocky relationship at the best of times. They usually found some reason to argue when they were together, so Garrus had found it best to simply not spent much time with him. Which, of course, gave them one more thing to argue about.

 

He hoped that his relationship with Shepard wouldn’t turn into another. Garrus had no idea how his father would react to his relationship with Shepard, or even if he would like her in the first place. He would respect her as a soldier and leader, and thank her for her efforts against the reapers, but he wasn’t sure how much all of that would really matter to his father in the end. Shepard was a Spectre, and a human. He might simply dismiss her without giving her a chance—savior of the galaxy or not.

 

He wondered if Shepard still remembered what he’d said to her years ago, when he first told her about his father. _He wouldn’t like you, Commander. No offense._ He wondered if that was still true. For all of their sakes, he hoped it wasn’t.

 

The reunion with his sister promised to be no better.

 

Solana had never forgiven him for not coming home to see their mother before she went off-world for treatment—or for not going to visit her while she was gone.

 

She had never forgiven him for quitting his C-Sec job when they’d needed the money for Mom’s treatments, for refusing to reveal where he was or what he was doing during the collector mission. For not telling her about the scars until they met face-to-face on Palaven.

 

It was a little late to fix any of that now.

 

How could he explain to her that he’d been trying to protect them, to keep them from worrying, to make the galaxy a safer place for everyone?

 

He couldn’t, and that’s why he said nothing.

 

…

 

The night of the ceremony had arrived.

 

Garrus was in his nicest civilian suit, lounging on the sofa in the captain’s quarters as he waited for Shepard and Liara to finally come out of the damn bathroom. They would have had more space in Shepard’s apartment, but it wasn’t in any condition to be inhabited at the moment. He wasn’t sure if his and Zaeed’s “improvements” had anything to do with the apartment’s destruction, but if they did, he hoped their traps had at least taken down some reaper forces with them.

 

Garrus sighed and glanced at the clock. He had no idea what Shepard and Liara could possibly be doing that was taking so long. Shepard never took this long to get ready for anything. An evening gown couldn’t possibly be more complicated to put on than armor, could it?

 

He’d seen her in a dress only a couple of times before, he recalled, the first time during a covert mission with Kasumi. Shepard had not been happy. At the time it had been amusing to see her stomping around the ship in high heels and leather, but he was hoping that there would be a little less rage and stomping tonight.

 

Glancing again at the clock, he called out to the two women sequestered in the bathroom. “You can’t be late to your own party, Shepard.”

 

“She’s almost ready,” Liara promised, her voice slightly muffled by the door.

 

Several minutes later, they finally emerged. He hardly noticed Liara slipping out the door as he came over to see Shepard.

 

She was a column of deep midnight blue with just a hint of sparkle catching in the light, a color that made her blue eyes seem even more vivid than they already were. It dipped into a deep V in back and cut across her collarbone in front, her pale skin shining out against the dark shade of the gown. Sleeves covered her arms to the wrists, hiding the scars that still lingered there. The skin bared by the dress had been the least scarred, protected by what had been left of her armor. If he looked closely, Garrus could see hints of her injuries, but he had to admit that she looked better, healthier, than she had in a long while.

 

“You look perfect,” he told her, sweeping her hair away from her face. Shepard (or, more likely, Liara) had carefully applied makeup to hide the faint scars and bruises that remained. He could barely see them anymore. She was starting to look like herself again.

 

Shepard shrugged. “It’s all Liara’s handiwork. There’s a reason I only wear my fatigues,” she told him with a nonchalance that wasn’t quite convincing.

 

He understood the fears Shepard had been hiding about tonight. She feared that everyone would see the scars and bruises both mental and physical, see how thin and weak she’d become from her time confined to bed—that they would see her not as Commander Shepard but as something pitiable and frail, broken.

 

Garrus had worries too, but his were not about how she would be seen. She was an incredible woman who had survived the impossible. He knew that. _Everyone_ knew that. Nothing she did tonight could change that. What he was afraid of was that Shepard would harm or overexert herself in her attempts to seem fully recovered. It was her way to keep going past the point of breaking. She always had. But she couldn’t keep doing this to herself, not now, while she was still on the mend. He would be keeping a close eye on her at this party.

 

“You look healthy,” he assured her, though she never would have voiced her concerns. “I doubt anyone would even believe you’re still in physical therapy.”

 

She gave him a dubious look, but he could tell that she was reassured by his words, if not quite convinced by them.

 

She shrugged. “Well, I guess we should get going,” she said, but didn’t sound the least bit eager to leave.

 

Garrus held her back as she moved for the elevator—he knew how to cheer her up. “Just a moment,” he said. “There’s one more thing I want to do before we go.” He wrapped his arms around her and dipped her into a long, low kiss. It was a very human thing to do, but he had come to enjoy kissing her—and he loved seeing the way it made her flushed and breathless after he pulled away.

 

Setting her back on her feet, his voice was smug. “ _Now_ I’m ready to go.”

 

For the first time that day, Shepard smiled, taking his hand to head towards the elevator. “Guess it’s time to go listen to some speeches about how we’re all big goddamn heroes, as Zaeed would say,” she quipped with a laugh. He squeezed her hand as the elevator doors slid shut.

 

They had a party to attend.

 

…

 

Shepard tried to stifle a yawn as the ceremony progressed. She’d been doing her best to keep the yawning and fidgeting to a minimum, but the boring ceremony and uncomfortable dress didn’t make it easy. The speeches went on and on, as did the parade of medal recipients, until it seemed like the ceremony would never end. Just about the time Shepard thought she was going to lose her mind from boredom, it finally came to a close, and the crowd was released to drink and mingle until dinner was served.

 

The moment Shepard stepped off the stage, she was mobbed by a crowd of people who either wanted to give her their thanks and well-wishes or simply wanted to shake the famous Commander Shepard’s hand. Cameras flashed about her all the while, the press taking this opportunity to get as many photos as possible. Shepard was pretty sure that she’d be blind by the end of the evening—as well as caught in some kind of awkward photo that would no doubt be on the extranet later. God, she hated the press.

 

Once she’d finally escaped her entourage of loyal fans, she went to search for Garrus and the rest of her friends, who had disappeared from her sight around the same time shed had been mobbed. She found most of the Normandy crew congregated around their assigned tables for the banquet, but she couldn’t see Garrus anywhere. She began to feel nervous, thinking of the inevitable meeting with the Vakarian family that awaited her once she found him.

 

But as she peered over the crowd, she felt a hand on her arm. Garrus had found her. “Shepard,” he began hurriedly as she turned towards him, “I’d like you to meet my father, Sylvan Vakarian, and my sister Solana.”

 

Her eyes moved from Garrus to the two turians standing next to him, and she reached out a hand to Garrus’s father. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” she told him as she shook his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

 

Sylvan’s grasp was firm. “Likewise, Commander,” he said. His eyes met hers, a piercing blue like his son’s. They focused on her sharply, but not unkindly.

 

Shepard released his hand and turned her attention to the female turian next to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Solana,” she told her, and once again extended her hand.

 

Solana did not take it. “Yes, I’ve heard all about you,” she said, her voice filled with a veiled hostility that took Shepard by surprise. “You’re quite famous, you know. I’m surprised that a big hero like you has the time to speak with us.”

 

Shepard wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. But as soon as she opened her mouth, Garrus cut her off distractedly as if he hadn’t even been aware they were speaking.

 

“Dad,” he began awkwardly, “I wanted to tell you something. Shepard and I…” He trailed off, unable to find the right way to say it now that the moment had arrived.

 

“Are together?” his father supplied. “Yes, I know.”

 

Both Garrus and Shepard stared at him in disbelief. “How?” Garrus asked incredulously.

 

He gave an amused snort. “You all but gave it away yourself months ago, and Primarch Victus confirmed it.”

 

Anger rose up in Garrus’s eyes. “Victus told you?” he demanded.

 

“Of course not,” Sylvan responded scornfully. “But he said enough. As you well know, I can put two and two together.”

 

Garrus was silent for a moment, taking it in. Shepard looked between father and son, wondering exactly how this was going to pan out. When Garrus finally spoke, it was with a bit of hesitation. “And you don’t have a problem with this?” he asked.

 

Shepard knew how much Garrus craved his father’s approval in spite of himself, and hoped, more for his sake than her own, that Sylvan would be accepting.

 

The turian shrugged. “I had my doubts,” he said simply, his eyes moving to Shepard for a moment and then back to his son. “But most of them have been put to rest.”

 

Garrus visibly relaxed. “I’m glad to hear you say that, Dad.”

 

Sylvan Vakarian turned his sharp eyes upon Shepard. “I’d like to have a long talk with each of you,” he added with a slight frown, “But perhaps that can wait until your commander is a little more well.” He eyed her up and down, and Shepard swore inwardly. Nothing escaped the Vakarian men, did it?

 

Garrus turned to her immediately, mandibles fluttering in concern. He immediately put a supportive arm around her and drew her gently out of earshot, father and sister forgotten. “You should sit down, Shepard. You look pale,” he said softly, motioning towards the table next to them.

 

She gave him an annoyed look. “I’m fine,” she said shortly, though she knew she was being stubborn. Chakwas had warned her not to stay on her feet too long while her legs (and the rest of her) were still healing. But she was just so sick of everyone hovering over her and worrying all the time. All she wanted was to get back to normal.

 

“Tempest,” Garrus warned. His eyes had that look in them, the one that told her she was wasting her time to argue. He followed her every order on the battlefield, but when it came to this, Garrus was unrelenting. He’d been so overprotective during the last few months. Sometimes it was just easier to let him have his way.

 

“If you insist,” she said grudgingly, and he pulled out a chair for her next to Joker and EDI. She shot him an annoyed look as she sat, but all he did was brush her cheek gently and head back to his family.

 

When his back was turned, she let out a frustrated sigh. The worst thing about the situation was that Garrus was right. She _was_ tired and weak, and she hated it. How long would she have to go on like this before she could feel like herself again?

 

Joker and EDI were talking, trying to rope her into their conversation, but Shepard was having none of it. She wasn’t in the mood.

 

Instead, she took to observing Garrus and his father. The older turian seemed loath to acknowledge his son’s accomplishments—everything about him, from his voice to his stance, seemed to exude a kind of authority that looked down upon others. But she also saw what Garrus did not. Garrus would never see the pride that entered Sylvan’s eyes when the primarch of Palaven came to greet and thank Garrus personally for all he had done. He would never see the glances, the traces of admiration and affection that flicked through his father’s eyes when he believed no one was looking. By the time Garrus was seated beside her for the meal, she had no doubts about how much Sylvan cared for his son—no matter how little he showed it.

 

Shepard’s table filled with crewmates and friends as they all sat down to eat. She was grateful for their company, but her heart ached with the knowledge that they would all be separated soon. Too soon.

 

She was diverted from these thoughts, however, by the piercing gaze of Solana Vakarian. Shepard had forgotten, for a while, about the turian’s unexplained hostility at her greeting, but now she wondered. When Shepard repeatedly caught her staring, Solana did not avert her eyes ashamedly, like a human would. Solana simply looked at her, observantly, almost defiantly, as if she wanted to make sure Shepard knew she wasn’t impressed by her in the least.

 

While Garrus hadn’t said as much, it hadn’t taken much observation for Shepard to see what a strained relationship he had with his sister. But she didn’t understand it. It wasn’t that they argued or disagreed—there hadn’t been any actual harsh words between them. Garrus was never less than courteous to his sister. But every time Solana spoke to him, there was an underlying anger that permeated every word. Shepard couldn’t figure it out.

 

And she wasn’t the kind of person who was content to leave a mystery unsolved.

 

After dinner, when Garrus and his father were both distracted, she made her move. “Solana, can I speak with you for a minute?” she asked, and after a moment, the turian nodded. Shepard directed her to a nook away from the crowds and noise.

 

Shepard crossed her arms and scrutinized Solana for a moment before blurting out the question that had been on her mind. “So what, exactly, is your problem?” She mentally rebuked herself for her bluntness, but she could hardly take the words back once she’d said them.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Solana responded coolly, her icy blue eyes daring Shepard to press the issue.

 

“Your brother,” Shepard stated simply. “Garrus has been nothing but kind and courteous to you all night, but you’ve treated him like he’s nothing,” she explained, trying to hold back the anger that rose up in her. “He’s a good man. He deserves better.”

 

Solana’s voice was bitter. “I treat him just as well as he deserves.”

 

Shepard stared at her in disbelief. “Garrus is one of the most loyal, dependable, and hardworking people I know, and I’ve met a hell of a lot of people in this galaxy,” she defended. “And whatever he’s done to make you angry should pale in comparison to the things he’s done to save your life,” she declared, her eyes boring into Solana’s.

 

“Dependable?” Solana repeated. The turian laughed mirthlessly. “Loyal?” she said scornfully. “He left our mother to die!”

 

Solana let her anger loose. “He could have come home to see her before she left for her treatment. He could have gone off-world to visit her after she’d gone! But he didn’t,” she spat out, and met Shepard’s eyes accusingly. “Because he was off adventuring with you.”

 

“Those weren’t adventures, Solana,” Shepard argued heatedly. “Those were critical missions. Missions where he risked his life time and time again for the sake of everyone in the galaxy!”

 

Solana was having none of it. “You want to talk about loyalty?” she asked bitterly. “Dependability?” Her icy eyes burned with anger. “He could have held down a job to pay for Mom’s treatments! He could have gone to see her before she died instead of refusing because the galaxy couldn’t spare him for a little while,” she insisted, a slight waver emerging in her voice.

 

Shepard was silent for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was unexpectedly solemn. “The last treatment, the one with the salarian doctors?” She paused for a nod from Solana. “Do you know why the treatment was free?”

 

Solana eyed her suspiciously, clearly wondering where this was going. “It was experimental,” she replied tersely.

 

Shepard nodded. “That project almost went under. Garrus called in favors with a few friends. Donated collector tissue from our mission. He got that project up and running,” she said. “And he didn’t even let them credit him for it.” Shepard’s voice had taken on a tone of sadness that she couldn’t quite suppress.

 

But Solana’s anger was not so easily quelled. “Is that what _he_ told you?” she accused. “And even if he wasn’t lying, what good did it do?” she cried. “She died there!”

 

Shepard’s heart ached for her. She knew loss all too well. “You can’t blame Garrus for your mother’s death, Solana,” she said, her voice full of pain from more loss than she hoped Solana would ever understand. “And he’s not the one who told me about the treatment. He’s not aware that I know about it, and I’d prefer to keep it that way,” she said softly but firmly.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Solana dismissed, her voice shaking. “She asked for him, and he didn’t come. While I was taking care of Mom, watching her get sicker and sicker, he was off playing the hero,” she said, her eyes full of hurt and betrayal. “Maybe he is a hero. Maybe he did help save the galaxy, but that will never matter to me,” she declared vehemently. “He failed her.”

 

“Solana,” Shepard began softly, “If I know your brother, he was trying to do the right thing by you.” The turian’s accusing stare wavered slightly, and Shepard pushed on. “Garrus was the only one on Palaven who knew what we were up against or how to prepare for it. If the reapers had won, it wouldn’t have mattered whether the treatment worked,” she said gently.

 

“ _One_ day.” Solana’s voice was almost pleading. “He couldn’t spare her a single day?”

 

Shepard surveyed the turian, taking in the raw pain that had been buried beneath the anger and hostility. Solana had been holding in so much hurt and anger, and it had been eating away at her. It couldn’t go on.

 

“I’m not saying he’s never made a mistake, Solana,” she said gently. “But he was trying,” she told her. “And he’s still trying.” Shepard could see the warring emotions in Solana’s eyes and took a step towards her. “Just talk to him,” she said. “Please.”

 

With that, she took a step back and turned to go, knowing that Solana would need to be alone to think over her words.

 

She just hoped that something would come of it.

 

…

 

When she returned to the ballroom, Garrus immediately started worrying over her, asking her repeatedly if she felt alright. She played it off—as much as her body cried out for relief, she’d been through worse. But nothing got past Garrus. He insisted on taking her back right away, and then proceeded to lecture her about overexerting herself for the entire cab ride back to the Normandy. Though she could have done without the lecture, she had to be honest with herself—she didn’t mind leaving that much. It wasn’t her kind of party.

 

Besides, she really _was_ tired.

 

Shepard lay sprawled across the bed, yawning as she watched Garrus move around the cabin. He’d insisted on putting her things away for her, and she didn’t bother arguing. During her long recovery, Garrus seemed to be determined to take care of her in any way he could. It was frustrating, but she’d gotten sick of arguing about it. In the end she decided she had earned the right to be a little bit lazy.

 

She did save the galaxy, after all.

 

Shepard shot Garrus an encouraging smile as he finally joined her on the bed, but he didn’t return it. “What is it?” she asked.

 

His mandibles flared uncomfortably, and he let out a sigh. “Shepard… what did you say to my sister?”

 

Shepard opened her mouth to deny any involvement, but Garrus cut her off before she could begin. “I know you said something to her,” he insisted. “When I went to say goodbye she was almost… nice.” He sounded a bit bewildered. “She wants to have lunch later this week.”

 

Shepard rolled onto her back, staring up through the skylight. “We had a talk,” she said, deliberately vague. She glanced over at Garrus, who was giving her his patented ‘C-sec look’.

 

“Don’t bother, Vakarian,” she said, closing her eyes. A small smile played on her lips. “You’re not getting anything out of me.”

 

He sighed. “Shepard you didn’t have to do… well, whatever you did.”

 

Her eyes opened again, and darted over to meet his. She couldn’t hide a wry smile. “You weren’t supposed to find out anyway.”

 

Garrus laughed as he stretched out next to her. “I know you too well,” he reminded her. “It had your handiwork written all over it.”

 

Shepard yawned and shifted over, curving her body against his. She tapped a button on her omni-tool, dimming the skylight until the room was devoid of light but for the blue glow of the fish tank. “Go to lunch with her. See what she has to say. She may surprise you.”

 

“I will,” he promised. He settled in, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her to his chest.

 

Before he closed his eyes, Garrus spoke one last time. “Shepard,” he said softly. “Thanks.”

 

…


	64. Moving Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many changes lie ahead, but not all change is bad. Shepard/Garrus, post-ME3.

It was moving day.

 

I stood on the steps to survey my room, feeling a little wistful. The Normandy had been my home for the past few years, and leaving it was going to be difficult. I’d become attached to this ship. It had seen me through good and bad times, and it was hard to put it in someone else’s hands.

 

But I was tired. Tired of being a hero, tired of saving the galaxy. I had earned a break.

 

Of course, no one else had planned on my retirement. The Council had grudgingly offered me Udina’s spot after seeing what I had done to unite the races during the war. Somehow, I don’t get the impression they would approve of my methods. I doubt they were too disappointed when I turned them down.

 

An offer not so easily rejected was the one I received from the Alliance. A promotion, and permanent command of the Normandy. I loved this ship. The idea of staying was appealing, but I had already made my decision.

 

A third offer had been made, of retirement somewhere warm and tropical, a house with a beach, my own private paradise. A promise of peace and happiness with someone I loved.

 

When I heard the door to my cabin open, I didn’t have to look to see who it was. There was only one person who didn’t knock.

 

Garrus came up behind me, putting an arm around my waist. “Ready to go?”

 

A hint of a smile crossed my face. “Almost,” I answered. I had been delaying packing for a while, though I hadn’t wanted him to know it. I didn’t want to admit how hard it was for me to leave.

 

His grip tightened around me slightly, as if he instinctively knew. “The Normandy’s been good to us,” he said.

 

“Yeah.” I knew what was coming would be better, but that still didn’t make it easy.

 

Garrus moved past me to pack my armor, the beautiful new armor bought by my crew as a gift while I was in recovery. Definitely better than flowers and get-well cards. He spoke up as he opened the matching case, designed to be a perfect fit. “So I’ve got a human culture question,” he began, picking up my helmet.

 

“Hit me,” I responded, moving to my bedside table to empty the drawers.

 

“Well, I was wondering how human marriages work,” he said, and his question stopped me short. In spite of his attempt to seem nonchalant, the question was clearly anything but casual.

 

He didn’t look up at me as I turned to him, crossing my arms. “Garrus, is this your idea of a proposal?” I asked, both amused and a little nervous.

 

His mandibles flared, and he finally met my eyes. “No…” he drew out. “I was just… feeling you out about it. And not doing a very good job of it, apparently.”

 

A hint of a smile crossed my face—I always found it cute when he got awkward like this. “You could have just asked me,” I said with a shrug, trying to hide my smile.

 

“Turians take marriage very seriously,” he explained. “It’s considered a big commitment and responsibility. We mate for life.”

 

“What don’t turians take seriously?” I asked wryly, and even he couldn’t hold back a laugh.

 

“Not much,” he admitted with a shrug. “I just wanted to know if we were on the same page.”

 

He turned back to packing my armor, and I returned to emptying my drawer, thinking about what he had asked, and what he hadn’t. After a moment, I spoke up. “To answer your question, marriage is like every other issue with humans. Everyone has a different opinion. Some couples choose not to marry, some do. Divorce is pretty common, but some stay together their whole lives,” I explained. That was simplifying the issue, but it could easily take all day to explain all the nuances of human opinions.

 

Garrus closed the armor case, all the pieces now packed away. He came over to me, stopping my movements with a hand on my arm, and turned me around gently to face him. “What about you?” he asked, his voice low. My heart started racing, and I wasn’t quite sure why.

 

I took a deep breath. “Garrus, I want to be with you for the rest of my life,” I said softly, reaching up to touch his scars, my reminder of how lucky I was to still have him. “If you want to marry me, I’ll be honored, but you don’t have to do that to keep me happy. I already have everything I need, as long as you’re with me.”

 

When he was quiet for a moment, I worried that my answer had disappointed him. He reached up to push my hair away from my face, studying me in that way he sometimes did. I watched his eyes search my face until they came to meet my own.

 

He cleared his throat. “Turians can’t really get down on one knee, and I don’t have a ring like they do in the vids—“

 

“I don’t wear jewelry,” I interrupted softly. I couldn’t keep a smile off my face from his endearing fumbling. He always tried so hard to make me happy, to make every moment perfect. He didn’t realize that, to me, it already was.

 

“Garrus…” I said gently, “just ask me.”

 

Silently, he took both my hands in his. “Well, Shepard?” he finally asked. “Will you make an honest turian out of me?”

 

I squeezed his hands in consent. “Of course I will,” I told him, smiling.

 

Wrapping his arms around me, he kissed me amidst the packed-up remains of the last few years of my life. And though I was sad to leave that life behind, the promise of better things lie ahead. I was sure of it.

 

…


	65. Solid Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard’s life has changed in many ways since ending the war, but she has one more change to consider. Shepard/Garrus, post-ME3.

I could hear the waves from where I lay, crashing against the cliffs off in the distance and lapping gently on the sand just a few meters from me. The warm sun beat down on my face, hot enough that I could almost feel the freckles sprouting on my nose. After only a few days, it still felt surreal to be here, to have no demands being placed on me, to relax, truly relax, for the first time in what must have been years.

 

But I wasn’t thinking about my surroundings—I had something else on my mind.

 

It had been some time since my close brush with death, since the end of the war, and I’d been putting off what had become almost ritualistic for me, the choice of a new name. My experiences changed me, and my name had always reflected that. And while defeating the reapers and nearly dying was more than enough cause for a change, I found myself hesitating.

 

At the sound of shifting sand to my left, I opened my eyes, squinting in the sunlight. I saw Garrus sitting down beside me, and I smiled. I couldn’t lie to myself—he was part of the reason I didn’t want to change my name.

 

He didn’t call me by my first name often, but I liked the way it sounded when he did, _Tempest,_ in those low, vibrating notes of his.

 

“You’re thinking too hard,” he said, interrupting my thoughts and smiling at me in the summer sunlight.

 

I gave him a small shrug and returned the smile. “Just trying to decide something,” I told him.

 

He leaned back in the sand beside me, sunning himself as he reclined on his arms. “Something I can help with?”

 

“Maybe.” I looked skyward, my eyes following a few drifting clouds. “I’m thinking about a new name.”

 

I could see him watching me out of the corner of my eye. “Got something in mind?” Always cautious, he wouldn’t express an opinion unless asked.

 

“No,” I told him truthfully. “Not sure I’m going to change it.”

 

“Why not?” he asked simply, the very thing I’d been trying to figure out myself.

 

“I don’t know exactly,” I admitted. I was silent for a moment before speaking again. “I guess I’m just not ready to let go.”

 

He looked thoughtfully out towards the horizon before turning back to me. “Tempest Shepard is the woman who made peace between the geth and quarians, the woman who cured the genophage,” he said softly. “Tempest Shepard defeated the reapers once and for all.” His blue eyes sparkled gently. “All in all, I think she’s pretty amazing.”

 

I couldn’t help but smile. He moved closer, his body pressing against mine in the sand. I closed my eyes as I moved my head to rest against his shoulder, listening to the calm rhythm of the waves.

 

I let out a sigh. “Everything’s going to be different now, isn’t it?”

 

I could feel him shifting away from me, sitting up. When a shadow came over me, I opened my eyes to see him above, looking gently down upon me as he came in for a kiss.

 

His words were a near-whisper before he brushed against my lips. “Not everything.”

 

…

 


	66. Life After War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard isn’t sure she’s cut out for peace. Shepard/Garrus, post-ME3.

Garrus peered up over the ledge to see the glow of sunset bathing his wife in warm light, turning her fair skin to gold and her red hair to fire. Her lithe body stretched out before her as she reclined on her arms to watch the sunset.

 

“I thought I might find you here,” he said.

 

Shepard turned towards him and smiled.

 

“You know,” Garrus began, grunting as he attempted to climb up and join her, “It’s not very easy for me to climb up here. Humans are more flexible than turians.”

 

She couldn’t help smiling slightly at his less than graceful attempt to hoist himself up over the edge. “I’ll get a step installed,” she said with a dismissive wave. “Besides,” she added as he came to sit down by her, “I thought you liked my flexibility,” she teased.

 

“Only in the bedroom, Shepard,” he teased back, now sitting beside her.

 

She smiled, and turned her eyes back to the horizon. While she watched the sunset, he watched her. They hadn’t been in their new home long, but it was long enough for him to know that she only came to the roof when something was bothering her.

 

Garrus sighed, settling in. “Buy a house with a perfectly nice balcony, and you prefer the roof.” He gave a small laugh. “Humans.”

 

Shepard only shrugged. “Maybe it’s just me. I’m not used to nice things yet.” She didn’t look at him.

 

He observed her for a moment before deciding to speak. “What’s going on, Shepard?” His voice was gentle.

 

She sighed, her eyes still on the horizon. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” she admitted quietly.

 

Garrus understood her meaning. “Neither of us are very used to peace, are we?” he commented, earning a small smile from his wife.

 

“Don’t get me wrong,” she began, meeting his eyes. “I meant it when I told the everyone that I was retiring.”

 

Garrus snorted a laugh. “You also told them you’d be happy to help if something came up,” he reminded her.

 

“They won’t call unless it’s urgent,” she defended half-heartedly, a smile growing on her lips. “When we go on a mission, things tend to…”

 

“Explode?” Garrus supplied, and they both laughed.

 

They fell to silence again, losing themselves in their own thoughts as they watched the sunset.

 

“It was fun, wasn’t it?” Shepard asked suddenly, turning to her husband. “Back in the beginning, before things got complicated.”

 

Garrus smiled at her. “It was always complicated,” he said. “But yeah. It was fun.”

 

Shepard looked him in the eye. “Do you miss it?” she asked. Garrus knew there was more weight to this question than she wanted him to realize.

 

He was quiet for a moment, staring off into the distance as he decided on his answer. “Sometimes,” he told her truthfully. He turned to her with a serious gaze. “But near the end I spent every day afraid I would lose you.”

 

She shook her head. “You know I’m not that hard to kill, Garrus.”

 

“I was so afraid I had lost you, Tempest.” His voice shook slightly. “If a little boredom means I never have to go through that again, I can deal with that.”

 

Shepard turned her eyes to his, her expression hard to read. Her fingers reached up to his cheek, running gently over his faded scars. She stared at him for a moment after her fingers dropped, then shifted over, leaning her head on his shoulder.

 

Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke. “I can deal with that too,” she said.

 

Together they watched the sunset in silent companionship, staying until twilight had faded and the sky filled with stars.

 

…

 


	67. The New Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard is sent to investigate what appears to be reaper forces months after the reapers have been defeated. What she finds changes her life. Shepard/Garrus, post-ME3.

“Back on the Normandy.” Shepard smiled over her shoulder. “Feels good, even if it’s temporary.”

 

Garrus came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “The cabin seems lacking without the fish and model ships, though,” he teased.

 

“Laugh it up, Vakarian, but I’ve caught you playing with my ships,” she retorted, turning in his arms to give him a knowing smile.

 

Shepard knew she shouldn’t be this happy about being called out of retirement—anything that made Hackett call her up had to be extremely troubling. And yet, it was exciting to be back, if even for a little while.

 

She was itching for a challenge.

 

The quiet life she and Garrus now shared was wonderful, but there were days when things were a little too quiet, and she knew he felt it too.

 

She stroked the side of his face, across the faded scars. She was glad to be here with him, fighting side by side again. As it should be.

 

Just as she leaned in to kiss Garrus, they were interrupted by Joker’s voice over the comm. “Commander?”

 

Shepard sighed, pulling back. “What is it, Joker?”

 

“ETA fifteen minutes. Just letting you know.”

 

“Thanks,” Shepard responded, though she couldn’t help feeling annoyed at the interruption.

 

“Duty calls,” Garrus said reluctantly, loosening his grip on his wife.

 

“We’ll pick up where we left off after the mission,” Shepard replied, heading towards the door.

 

“And that’s an order,” she grinningly called over her shoulder.

 

…

 

Shepard, Garrus, and EDI stood in the entryway of a run-down hospital, surveying the area around them.

 

“Husks,” Garrus said wonderingly. “Still?”

 

Shepard grimaced, pointing to another corpse, one that wasn’t a husk. “Cerberus.”

 

He shook his head. “Something’s not right here. We destroyed Cerberus”.

 

EDI explained. “Cerberus is structured to work in cells. Some cells may have dissipated or been completely destroyed by our attack on Cerberus, while others may attempt to continue their work, even without the Illusive Man’s oversight.”

 

Garrus shook his head. “I never wanted to see a Cerberus trooper again. Or one of these,” he said, nudging a marauder with his foot.

 

“Come on,” Shepard said, pulling out her weapon. “We better keep going.”

 

The three of them explored, killing reaper forces as they went, until they reached the laboratories situated in the hospital’s basement.

 

“Stay sharp,” Shepard commanded in a harsh whisper, anticipating Cerberus resistance. But when they reached the labs, the Cerberus scientists were already dead, overwhelmed by the monsters they had created. Wave after wave of husks and marauders came at them, in seemingly endless numbers.

 

Shepard would have almost found it fun if it weren’t for the gruesome circumstances of it all.

 

When their numbers dwindled and slowed to a stop, the three of them began to look around for clues to what had happened there.

 

“What kind of hospital was this, anyway?” Shepard asked as they searched for information on what Cerberus was up to.

 

EDI answered her. “Extranet sources state that this was a mental hospital.”

 

Shepard and Garrus both grimaced at that, but EDI continued without reaction. “It stopped reporting in during the war. Most assumed it had been destroyed by reaper forces until the distress call was sent out.”

 

“Not entirely wrong,” Garrus mused.

 

Shepard shook her head. “Keep looking for information. We need to know why they were doing this after the reapers were destroyed.”

 

It was EDI who found something. “There is some correspondence here, between this hospital and what looks like another Cerberus outpost. It appears that they were attempting to rebuild Cerberus, using indoctrinated forces as a kind of slave army.”

 

“Good find, EDI,” Shepard said, coming up behind the AI to read for herself. “We better check that other base out ASAP. We need to wipe out this project before it goes any further,” she stated firmly.

 

Shepard turned back to Garrus as EDI downloaded the information from the console. “Let’s make a full sweep of this place, make sure it doesn’t have any surprises left in it,” she told him.

 

It was a grisly sight.

 

In between fighting pockets of reaper forces, they saw mangled bodies, either killed for their resistance, or by the monsters they had been brought here to become. Whoever had put out the distress call, just days ago, was certainly dead by now. It seemed as if the hospital was nothing more than a ghost town, until Shepard heard something unusual.

 

An odd sound was coming from one of the patient rooms. a sound that Shepard couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t reaper forces, she had quickly deduced, but she had no idea what else it might be. She silently pulled out her weapon and motioned for the other two to follow her.

 

As they entered, Shepard’s eyes swept the room, quickly focusing on what looked to be an injured turian curled up in the corner. From a quick glance, she could tell the turian was female, and she was completely covered in blood. Shepard moved to check for life signs, but Garrus beat her there.

 

“Dead,” he said regretfully, with a shake of his head. Then a puzzled look crossed his face. “But what’s…”

 

His eyes and Shepard’s both came to focus on a bloody pile of rags at the dead turian’s side, realizing that this was the source of the unidentified sound. Shepard cautiously pushed aside some of the rags, her breath catching in her throat at what she saw.

 

Unable to believe her own eyes, she reached down and picked up the bundle. It seemed impossible, but Shepard couldn’t deny what she was seeing. Wrapped in bloody rags was what appeared to be a newborn turian, and it couldn’t have been more than a few hours old.

 

“Spirits,” Garrus whispered as he and Shepard stared in shock and disbelief at the bundled-up infant she held in her now-shaking hands.

 

“Okay,” Shepard said, as much to calm herself as to address the others. “We need to—” She stopped short. She had no idea what they needed to do. She looked up at Garrus helplessly, but he looked as bewildered as she felt.

 

EDI’s voice came from behind them. “It needs adequate swaddling for warmth and a dextro-protein paste. I suggest we get it back to the ship immediately.”

 

Garrus stood. “Right.” He grabbed a blanket from the bed, ripping it in half. “We can use this to wrap him up.” He helped Shepard remove the bloody rags from around the infant, replacing them with the warm blanket.

 

Shepard turned to EDI. “Contact the Normandy. Tell Cortez we need a pickup immediately, and let Chakwas know we’ve got a baby turian that needs medical attention,” she ordered.

 

Getting ready to leave, Shepard awkwardly climbed to her feet and realized the infant was no longer making that horrible keening wail. Alarmed, she looked down at him, only to see him staring up at her with pale blue eyes.

 

She stared back for a moment, still in shock from their find. “Shepard,” Garrus said softly, and that was all it took to get her moving. They needed to get this baby to the Normandy’s med bay as fast as they could.

 

The ride on the shuttle was a quiet one. The child had stopped its mewling, and the rest of them were contemplating the events that had just transpired, though Shepard’s thoughts were consistently interrupted with a sudden worry that the infant’s silence meant there was something wrong with him. EDI seemed to be staring off into space with the stillness only a synthetic could manage, and Garrus was leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his unfocused eyes directed towards the bundle that Shepard held.

 

Chakwas met them at the airlock, taking the infant immediately. Shepard and Garrus followed Chakwas to the med bay, who quickly scanned the child with her omni-tool. She began to unwrap the blanket to wash him off and do a more thorough physical exam, and he began crying again immediately, that keening wail that they’d heard in the hospital. Shepard watched with interest as the doctor examined him. She’d never seen a baby turian up close before.

 

Wrapping the child back up, Chakwas turned to them. “He seems perfectly healthy under the circumstances, if somewhat premature. It’s a stroke of luck that you arrived when you did. He wouldn’t have survived long on his own.”

 

In spite of the doctor’s words, the infant still wailed. “What’s wrong with him ?” Shepard asked, a little alarmed at the crying.

 

“He’s just hungry, I believe,” Chakwas said, taking what looked like some kind of injection apparatus out of a refrigerated unit. The doctor took the bundle in her arms and began to use the tube to feed the baby, whose cries were silenced as he eagerly consumed the nourishment.

 

Shepard looked on in interest. “Why paste?” she asked curiously.

 

Chakwas looked up to answer. “Until a turian infant grows teeth, his mother chews the food for him.”

 

A look of disgust crossed Shepard’s face, and she shook her head. “Right. Well, if he’s taken care of for now, we should get onto finding that other Cerberus base,” she directed at Garrus, who nodded his agreement, though his eyes went back to the child.

 

“Let me know if he needs anything else,” Shepard added as left the med bay, Garrus on her heels.

 

…

 

Since dealing with Cerberus was their top priority, it appeared that their passenger would be with them for at least a night or two. Chakwas assured Shepard that the child would be fine on the ship for the time being, until they had time to figure out what to do with him.

 

When Shepard had asked, Garrus told her that without knowing the mother’s name, clan markings would have been nearly the only way to search for a next-of-kin. Unfortunately, the mother had been bare-faced, leaving them with no way of finding this child’s family, if he had any. He would need to be taken to an agency to be adopted or fostered with some other family, and that would be far from a simple matter.

 

So Shepard decided to let the matter rest for the time being. They had other things to worry about, like the fact that Cerberus was trying to rebuild itself with it’s very own reaper army.

 

That decided, things went on as planned—at least at first.

 

Shepard was trying to nap a few hours after they’d returned when EDI’s voice rang out over the comm. “Shepard, Dr. Chakwas is requesting that you come down to the medical bay.”

 

Shepard groaned and stretched. “Be right there.” With blurry eyes and wrinkled fatigues, she headed down to see what kind of crisis required her attention this time.

 

A screeching sound assaulted her ears as soon as the door opened, and she quickly deduced its source as she saw Chakwas wincing with a small, wiggling bundle in her lap. “What’s wrong with him?” Shepard asked worriedly.

 

Without answering, Chakwas held the child out to Shepard, who took him automatically. The screeching stopped as those pale blue eyes latched onto her own. Shepard looked up, giving the doctor a blank stare. “What the hell just happened?”

 

Chakwas let out a long sigh of relief at the quiet. “Just as I suspected. Commander, were you the first one to pick him up?”

 

Shepard’s brow furrowed. “Yeah. Why?”

 

The doctor nodded. “I believe he’s formed an attachment to you. He most likely believes that you are his mother.” Shepard stared at Chakwas in disbelief as she continued. “It would be better for him if you kept him nearby while you’re on the ship.”

 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Shepard muttered, glancing down at the baby’s solemn pale eyes. She turned her attention back to Chakwas. “You’re saying I need to carry him around with me,” she stated flatly.

 

The doctor nodded. “For his sake, and the sake of all our eardrums,” she said wryly, “That would be best.”

 

Shepard’s eyes strayed down to the pale, curious eyes of the newborn turian. He wriggled an arm out of his wrappings, and she instinctively reached for it with her free hand. His tiny talons wrapped around her finger, and it made her heart ache. He didn’t understand loss, and yet he had lost everything. He didn’t know war, but it had destroyed everything he had. All he knew was this, and her. She couldn’t abandon him to cry in fear and loneliness.

 

She took a deep breath. She was Commander Shepard. She could do damn near anything—looking after a baby couldn’t be that hard. “Okay,” she conceded. “I can do that.”

 

Chakwas looked relieved. “Thank you, Commander.”

 

…

 

Shepard could see Joker’s smirk as clearly as if he was facing her. “So I hear congratulations are in order,” he said with a laugh. Shepard glared at the back of his head.

 

“Not funny, Joker,” she said through gritted teeth. And it wasn’t, at least not to her. She’d been dragging this baby all around the ship for nearly a day now, and had hardly slept thanks to the screaming infant in her quarters that demanded her attention all night long. Even Garrus had abandoned her to it, leaving with an odd look on his face as she had staggered out of bed to feed the child for the third time that night. He didn’t come back to bed, and he’d been acting very strange. Like she needed that now, on top of everything else.

 

Shepard sighed. “How about I leave him with you instead of Chakwas during the mission? I’m sure you’ll enjoy the screaming,” she snarked.

 

“Alright, alright,” Joker gave in. “No more teasing.” He paused. “Not much, anyways. Mom.”

 

Shepard shook her head in exasperation. “Just fly the damn ship, Joker. Bring us in as close as you can without setting them on alert. We’ll deploy in the shuttle.”

 

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”

 

…

 

The second Cerberus base was not as easily dealt with as the first. Though hundreds of reaper creatures swarmed the base, there were still Cerberus agents inside, sending mechs and turrets against them. They made their way slowly, taking hours to reach the core of the base. By the time they had finally managed to rid the base of all Cerberus troops, Shepard was exhausted. She hadn’t been sleeping much, after all.

 

And it certainly didn’t help that this mission was far from over. The remnants of Cerberus were more persistent than they’d realized—enough so that the Normandy alone wasn’t going to be enough to deal with them. Hackett was organizing a larger attack, but Shepard couldn’t even appreciate that it was now out of her hands. She was just too damn tired.

 

When they returned to the ship, she remembered the baby. Her heart sank—she couldn’t take another night like the last. Garrus could see the exhaustion in her eyes, and sent her up to bed, insisting that he’d go get the child for her. In spite of her misgivings, Shepard was nearly asleep by the time Garrus brought the infant up to their quarters, a soft whimpering sound reaching her ear as the door opened.

 

“She’s right there, no need to cry,” she heard in his low, vibrating tones. She listened to his heavy footsteps cross the room to the makeshift cradle Chakwas had produced, the thump of armored feet replaced by the soft rustle of moving blankets.

 

After a few minutes of silence, Shepard realized he hadn’t come to bed, and opened an eye to look for him. Garrus stood silently over the cradle, back bent heavily, eyes staring downward towards the child that lay within it.

 

Suddenly, she understood all of it.

 

Heart aching, she closed her eyes again and willed herself to go to sleep. She couldn’t deal with those thoughts, not just then.

 

…

 

It was early when Shepard woke, realizing that she hadn’t heard the child cry out in the night. She saw Garrus sprawled across the bed and knew that it must have been his doing. How long had he stayed up so that she could rest?

 

She walked over to the cradle and lifted the now-sleeping infant carefully out of it, hoping not to wake him. She needed to think, and she didn’t want to disturb the well-deserved rest that Garrus was now getting.

 

She found herself wandering to the subdeck, the only place she knew she could be alone. She sat down and stared at the child in her arms, this tiny person who had turned everything upside down in such a short time. As she gazed at the sleeping infant, she lost herself in thought, and this was how Garrus eventually found her.

 

As he quietly approached, she spoke. “Do you ever regret being with a human instead of your own kind?” Her eyes were still trained on the child in her arms.

 

“I could never regret being with you,” he told her, sitting down beside her.

 

“That’s not what I meant.” Her words were quiet, and still she didn’t look up at him.

 

Garrus sighed, putting an arm around her waist. “Shepard, when you were in lockdown on Earth, I was afraid that you hadn’t been serious about us. I tried to get over you, but I didn’t want anyone else. No turians, no humans, not anyone.” He understood the meaning behind her question, what it was that she was afraid to ask. “You are more important to me than anything else,” he told her, hoping that she understood his answer.

 

Shepard was silent for several minutes before speaking again. “When we talked, before I left to fight my way to the Catalyst… Were you serious about wanting children? About adopting?” she asked softly.

 

Garrus felt his mouth go dry, momentarily finding himself without words. He tried to gather his thoughts. “Are you saying—”

 

“Yeah,” Shepard interrupted gently. She paused, finally looking up to meet his eyes, blue versus blue. “If you want to.”

 

Wrapped up in thought, he was quiet a moment before he answered her. “Well,” he said lightly, “He already thinks you’re his mother.”

 

A cautious smile graced her features. “You’re sure about this?”

 

His grip around her tightened. “Yeah.”

 

The two of them looked down at the child, his pale eyes opening to meet theirs. “This will be an interesting adventure,” Garrus mused, glancing over at Shepard with a smile.

 

She smiled back, her eyes beginning to sparkle. “I think we’re up for the challenge.”

 

…


	68. Uncharted Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard goes into a small panic about the new adventure she’s embarked on with Garrus. Shepard/Garrus, post-ME3.

Shepard paced the floor of her Citadel apartment with a baby turian in one arm and feeding apparatus in the other hand, the dim glow of the half-rebuilt Sunset Strip casting her in multicolored light.

 

She’d pushed Garrus back down into bed, told him she’d take care of the midnight feeding, and it seemed he’d gone back to sleep. She hadn’t slept yet at all, though she felt no need to share that fact with him.

 

She looked down at the tiny turian in her arms, the child she’d begun to think of as her own though he wasn’t technically hers yet. There was plenty of bureaucratic crap still to get through before they could take him back to their home on Elysium, but she had no doubt that it would be taken care of in record time.

 

People would move mountains for the savior of the galaxy, she’d learned.

 

But the logistics weren’t what had her up all night, nor was it even the child that demanded almost-constant care. Even while he’d slept she’d lain awake with a mind as tumultuous as the sea in a thunderstorm.

 

No, Commander Shepard was afraid of something. Terrified, actually. She, who had stared down the impossible and told it to shove it, was utterly petrified of motherhood.

 

So far it didn’t seem so complicated. Feed, change diapers, put to sleep. Babies had simple enough needs, even babies of other species. It was the years to come that had her shaking in her boots.

 

Shepard glanced down again at the infant curled up to her chest. He’d fallen asleep. She started to move towards the bedroom they’d chosen for him, but hesitated. If she was going to be awake for a while, she might as well keep him with her. She liked holding him, though she couldn’t quite explain why. She liked the feel of him huddled against her. She liked the baby smell that was both like and unlike a human baby. And she liked the security of knowing that he was safe in her arms and nowhere else.

 

Instead of putting him to bed, she settled on the couch to think, eyes staring unfocusedly out the window as she felt the rise and fall of his tiny chest against her own.

 

She stirred from her thoughts as she heard a sound, and glanced over to see Garrus coming down the stairs in his sleepwear. “You didn’t come back to bed,” he said quietly, arriving by her side.

 

She shrugged slightly, not giving him an answer as he sat down beside her. She watched him surreptitiously as he looked at the child in her arms, a new tenderness coming over his expression for a quick moment before it disappeared again. When his eyes met hers, it was concern she saw. “What is it?” he asked, and she hesitated.

 

Shepard still wasn’t used to sharing everything.

 

She would usually keep her problems to herself unless he asked, but she didn’t like to lie to him. Because of it, she often found herself telling him things she wouldn’t normally share. Telling him never went as disastrously as she somehow thought it should, but she always hesitated nonetheless.

 

She let out her breath in a small huff. “I’m just…” She paused, trying to figure out how to express the worries that were in her mind. “Aren’t you afraid we’re going to screw this up?” Her eyes met her husband’s, who wasn’t reacting nearly as strongly as she’d expected him to.

 

He surveyed her calmly. “I was wondering how long it would take,” he said, almost to himself. “You’re going to do fine,” he told her, as if he was simply stating fact rather than opinion.

 

He knew her too well. Any attempt to comfort her would have been met with a certainty that he was only placating her, trying to make her feel better. His confidence was… refreshing, if not entirely convincing. She wasn’t ready to give in.

 

“I’m not messing around, Vakarian,” she said firmly. Her brow crinkled slightly. “I’m not well adjusted. I’m someone who only knows the life of a soldier, has woken up from nightmares nearly every day for the past twenty years, and hasn’t taken care of a child since the age of sixteen,” she told him. “I can’t figure out what makes you so sure I can do this.” Her eyes never wavered as she stared him down, daring him to tell her that this wouldn’t work and that she ought to give the child up after all.

 

Garrus didn’t speak at first. With the gentlest of movements he reached up and pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes before drawing her face towards his. He pressed his lip plates against her mouth in the approximation of a chaste human kiss, then leaned his forehead against hers. “I wouldn’t have asked you to do this if I didn’t think you could,” he told her quietly. He paused for a moment, but she had no response. She was simply drawn in to those blue eyes she loved so dearly that held a determination she knew all too well.

 

He spoke again, loosening his grip on her and pulling back, though his eyes never left her own. “I know you, Shepard. You’ve never met a problem you backed away from. You’ve taken people that I never believed in and turned them into talented soldiers, team players, and good people,” he emphasized. Shepard blinked. She had never made that connection before. “I have no doubts that you’ll take to motherhood as passionately and brilliantly as you do to anything else,” he told her, and she couldn’t help but smile.

 

She couldn’t have asked for a better partner in all of this, she knew. “I don’t know how I ever did anything without you, Garrus,” she said with a quiet laugh.

 

He grinned, but his eyes softened. “You’ll never have to find out again,” he promised. He’d always had her back, metaphorically and physically, and this would be no different. His arm went around her, and she leaned into him—a perfect fit where it seemed like there never should have been one.

 

“So,” he drawled, gesturing to the baby nestled in her arms. “You’re not going to make me tell the agency we’ve changed our minds, are you?”

 

She gave him a sidelong look, unable to hide her own smile. “I suppose we’re going to have to name him now, aren’t we?”

 

Surprisingly, Garrus stiffened. She looked at him curiously, and he spoke. “I, uh, had some thoughts on that,” he said carefully.

 

“Me too,” Shepard replied, and he motioned for her to go first. “I’d like him to have a turian name,” she suggested. “I don’t want him getting made fun of by the next kid over at boot camp because he’s got some human name,” she told him. “And as I haven’t got the first clue about turian naming conventions, I was hoping you would name him.” She paused, clearing her throat slightly. This part made her a bit more uncomfortable. “But, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to give him his middle name.”

 

“You have something in mind?” Garrus asked.

 

She nodded, a lump forming in her throat. “Anderson,” she said quietly.

 

Garrus just nodded in response, waiting a moment before speaking up again. “My mother’s name was Cassia,” he told her quietly, pain still present when he spoke of her. Shepard reached her free hand over to grasp his as he continued. “The male form is Cassius,” he explained, and said no more.

 

Shepard was silent for a moment, thinking it over. “Cassius Anderson Vakarian,” she mused.

 

“Just Vakarian?” Garrus asked suddenly. “Not Shepard-Vakarian? Vakarian-Shepard?”

 

Shepard shook her head vigorously, frowning slightly. “People get… weird,” she said vaguely, “When they hear the name Shepard. I don’t want him exposed to that any more than he has to be,” she said firmly. She glanced over at Garrus. “Is that okay?”

 

His brow plates lowered into a slight frown. “It makes sense,” he agreed, though he sounded a little grudging about it. “If it’s what you want,” he conceded, and she nodded, closing the matter.

 

They were silent for several minutes. Garrus was, no doubt, thinking over things just as Shepard was, but eventually he nudged her. “We should get some sleep,” he said, voice rumbling, “And put the little guy back in bed.”

 

Shepard glanced down at the baby in her arms, not quite understanding why she didn’t want to let go—but certain that she didn’t. She glanced up at Garrus. “A few more minutes?” she suggested, and he smiled.

 

…


	69. Pink and Squishy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another new addition joins the Vakarian family. Post ME3.

The sun shone brightly on two turians and a human baby on the balcony of a particular beach house on Elysium. Solana Vakarian looked apprehensive as her brother placed the small bundle in her arms. “It’s so… pink,” she said. “And squishy.” She held the baby gingerly.

 

Garrus laughed. “You won’t break her, Sol,” he assured his sister. “Just be careful of her head.”

 

The female turian gave him a startled look. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

 

“Humans skulls don’t finish forming for months after they’re born,” he explained. “She’s got a soft spot on the top of her head that you have to be careful of.”

 

Solana stared at him, alarmed. “Your baby has a self-destruct button?” she cried in disbelief, holding the baby away from herself as if she expected it to explode at any moment.

 

Garrus burst out laughing at his sister’s panic, and the baby let out a wail. Taking pity on baby and aunt, Garrus took the little girl back into his own arms to comfort her.

 

It didn’t take long for the infant to calm down, contented and safe in her father’s arms. Solana watched the two of them together, and then looked out over the balcony railing to where her father was playing with his grandson.

 

She smiled at her brother. “Fatherhood suits you, Garrus.”

 

He returned the smile and shrugged. “You looking to settle down anytime soon, Sol?”

 

“I don’t know,” she replied thoughtfully, looking out over where her nephew was playing. “There is a guy. Nikal.”

 

Garrus couldn’t hold in a grin. “Nikal Victus? The primarch’s youngest?” he asked, and his sister’s mandibles twitched subconsciously in response. “Setting your sights high, I see,” he teased.

 

“He’s nice,” she defended. “We share a lot of interests.” She crossed her arms. “Besides,” she added, “Vakarian is a pretty big name these days, thanks to you.”

 

His mandibles flared in discomfort. “Well, it’s going to be up to you to keep it that way, Sol. I’m retired.”

 

Solana gave him a look. “Nikal says you’re his father’s number one man,” she argued.

 

Garrus shrugged. “Victus really doesn’t call on me that often. He’s got better advisors.”

 

“Closer advisers, maybe. Not better.” Solana shook her head. “You can deny it all you want, Garrus, but it doesn’t make it less true.”

 

Garrus, eager to change the subject, spoke up quickly. “Well, just let me know when to show up for the wedding,” he teased her. “Or to beat him up if he breaks your heart. Brother’s prerogative.”

 

Solana let out another laugh. “Believe me, if he tries to break my heart, I’ll beat him up myself.”

 

Before Garrus could reply, they were interrupted by a call from below. “Auntie Sol!”

 

The two of them looked over the edge of the balcony to see Garrus’s son staring up at them. “Auntie Sol!” the turian child cried. “Come play!”

 

Solana smiled. “I’ll be right down, Cassius.” She moved to leave, squeezing her brother’s shoulder as she headed inside.

 

Garrus smiled contentedly as he watched them together, his father, his sister, and his son. The bundle in his arms stirred slightly, and he turned his attention to the newest member of the Shepard-Vakarian family. Her eyes blinked open, her tiny mouth stretching into a yawn.

 

“Hello, Leigh,” he said in a whisper, running a talon gently through her downy hair. He jumped slightly at the sound of the door behind him, and turned to see Shepard entering the balcony, baby bottle in her hand.

 

She gave him a smile, and he handed her their daughter as she moved to sit across from him. They were quiet, watching their son playing in their clearing.

 

“Did Solana get to hold Leigh?” Shepard asked, turning her eyes back to Garrus.

 

He laughed slightly, remembering. “Not for long. Sol was a bit afraid of breaking her,” he told her. “Said she was too pink and squishy.”

 

Shepard let out a hearty laugh. “What about me?” she asked him, her eyes sparkling. “Am I pink and squishy?” she asked teasingly.

 

He shrugged at her. “Yeah,” he admitted, and then smiled. “But I don’t mind.”

 

Shepard smiled back, and turned her attention to the activity down below. Garrus observed his wife feeding the baby as she watched his father and sister play with Cassius. Her red hair fluttered in the breeze. She looked happy, but a bit tired.

 

“Are you sure it’s not too much?” he asked her gently. “Having guests here with the baby—”

 

She stopped him with a shake of her head. “It’s fine, Garrus,” she reassured him. She looked back to their son, wrestling with his grandfather while his aunt cheered him on, and then to their tiny daughter in her arms.

 

Shepard looked at her husband and smiled. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Everything is perfect.”

 

…

 


	70. Find a Stranger, Say Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lifetime had passed since he'd last seen her. Everything had changed. Shepard/Garrus, slight Shepard/Grant (OC), post ME3.

The area was bustling, but Shepard didn’t notice. Her focus was on the child in her arms. She smiled down at the giggling infant who seemed content with chewing on her own fingers.

 

When a shadow came over the two of them, Shepard looked up, military instinct masking the surprise she felt. Though he looked grayer than she remembered, she recognized him immediately. Those golden brown eyes were the same as they had always been.

 

“I’m glad to see you smiling, Kate,” he said, and she motioned to the bench next to her.

 

“It’s good to see you, Captain,” she replied as he positioned himself carefully, leaving just enough space between the two of them. He still wasn’t comfortable being close to her, even after all these years. He'd never stopped being weighed down by the guilt.

 

“It’s admiral now, actually,” Grant told her, and a faraway smile crossed Shepard’s face.

 

“You’ll always be the Captain to me.” She appraised him with thoughtful eyes. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, absentmindedly stroking her daughter’s hair, a pale red that turned to gold in the bright sunlight.

 

“I’m not here long,” he said. “Just a few days of leave. What about yourself?”

 

Shepard smiled off towards the distance, watching families stroll through the square in the sunlight. “I’m in the city for the day. Garrus is taking our son to get tested for an advanced placement school. We decided to make a day trip out of it,” she explained.

 

He looked at her in surprise, recognizing the name. “Vakarian? The turian?” Shepard nodded, her eyes steadily meeting his.

 

Shepard turned her eyes back to her daughter. “We’ve been together since the war,” she explained simply, referring, of course, to the reapers. She continued stroking her daughter’s hair, the girl’s tiny mouth stretching into a yawn. “I’m surprised you didn’t see us in the tabloids, actually,” she added with a rueful laugh. “The press had a field day when they found out.”

 

She continued. “After it was all over, we got a house here on Elysium to settle down.” She glanced back up at him with a small smile. “We figured we deserved it after all we’d been through.”

 

Grant nodded. “No one could deny that.” As they lapsed into silence, he watched Shepard cradling her now sleeping daughter. _This could have been mine_ , he thought wistfully, looking at the woman but remembering the girl from so long ago. The guilt hit him again--he shouldn't be thinking such things.

 

There was something different about her now that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, something he’d never seen in her before. And it wasn’t just that she’d grown up in all the years that had passed.

 

Shepard looked off across the square again, her eyes lighting up almost immediately. Grant followed her gaze to a turian man and child making their way towards them. Shepard got up to go to them, the child wrapping his small arms around Shepard’s legs as soon as she approached.

 

The turian, who Grant assumed must be Garrus, put an arm around Shepard, their faces coming so close that they nearly touched. In spite of the public venue, Grant felt almost as if he should look away, as if he were intruding on a private moment.

 

The turian carefully lifted the infant from Shepard’s arms into his own, holding her with surprising tenderness. Hands now free, Shepard picked up the turian child, swinging him around in a circle before placing the boy on her hip. Grant wondered if the child had any idea that his parents were some of the galaxy’s biggest heroes.

 

As the family moved to leave, Shepard turned her head, meeting Grant’s eyes. She nodded with a small smile, and he responded in kind, acknowledging her goodbye.

 

He watched her walk away until the family went around a corner, disappearing from sight. It was only then that he realized what was different about her.

 

There were many things that could be said about Shepard, but one adjective that he never thought he would use was peaceful. And yet, that was exactly what he saw in her now. In spite of everything she’d been through, in spite of the struggles and tragedies that had made up her life up until this point, she’d somehow found peace, and nothing could take that away from her.

 

Grant, still haunted by the ghosts of his own past, sighed as he stared at the place he’d last seen her. If she could do it, maybe there was hope for him too. Perhaps someday he could find some peace of his own.

                                                                                 

…


	71. Tell Me A Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard’s daughter wants to hear a bedtime story. Shepard/Garrus, mentions of Shepard/Grant (OC), post-trilogy.

The small redheaded girl looked expectantly up at her mother, her face just peeking over the edge of the blanket. “Please?” she asked, her eyes wide and hopeful.

 

Shepard sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “Oh, alright,” she gave in, immediately putting a smile on the young girl’s face.

 

“What kind of story do you want, Leigh?” she asked, reaching over to stroke the little girl’s hair.

 

“Something with princesses and dragons,” Leigh insisted, not an unusual request from the child, though vastly different from the stories her older brother used to ask for. He had always liked to hear about battles and heroes and space—things Shepard was intimately acquainted with. This, on the other hand, would require a bit more imagination.

 

“Hmm….” Shepard mused. “Okay, I’ve got one.” She settled in.

 

“Once there was a princess of a small kingdom. She lived there happily with her mother, father, and little sister, until one day she found out that she could do magic.”

 

“Not many people could do magic, so most people in the kingdom were scared of it. Her mother and father, the king and queen, wanted to send her to a faraway kingdom where they could teach her how to use her magic, but the princess didn’t want to go. She loved her home and didn’t want to leave it. To keep the king and queen from sending her away, she ran and hid in a nearby forest.”

 

“While she was gone, a terrible thing happened. A neighboring kingdom attacked the princess’s home. When she came out of the forest, her whole kingdom was burning down. The bad men took everyone prisoner, including the princess’s family. The princess barely escaped, saved by a prince and his loyal knights who were passing by.”

 

“Did she marry the prince?” Leigh asked, and her mother hushed her.

 

“You’ll find out when I finish the story,” Shepard gently reprimanded.

 

“The princess was so impressed by the prince and his knights so much that she decided she wanted to be a knight too. So she went off to train for years and years, and didn’t see the prince that saved her for a long time.”

 

“Many years later, the princess had become a very famous knight who had been in many battles and fought many monsters. One day, she found out that dragons were going to attack and destroy all the kingdoms in the world, so she decided to go on a quest to save them.”

 

“While the princess was on her quest, she ran into the prince who saved her all those years ago. She asked him to join her, to come with her to save their kingdoms, but he said no.”

 

“Why did he say no?” the child asked, wide-eyed.

 

“Because,” Shepard said, ruffling her daughter’s hair, “He had his own quest.” She paused. “And he wanted the princess to learn how to save herself.”

 

She took a deep breath and continued. “The princess was sad that he wouldn’t help her in her quest, but she wasn’t sad for long. There were many other people who wanted to help her save the world, and they went on many adventures together.

 

“One of the people who wanted to help was another prince, from a faraway kingdom. And even though the quest was dangerous, he stayed with her until they had defeated all the dragons that were threatening the world. The princess and her new prince saved everyone, and they were both declared heroes, along with all their friends who came to help.”

 

“Did they live happily ever after?” the girl asked, and Shepard couldn’t hold in a gentle laugh.

 

“Yes,” she told her. “Yes they did.”

 

She looked down at her daughter, so clearly trying to stay awake in spite of her tiredness. “Ready for sleep, kid?” she asked affectionately. “Was the story good enough?” she added with a small laugh. No matter what her daughter said, there was no way she was telling a second story.

 

Leigh smiled drowsily. “Can I have another story about the princess tomorrow?” she asked, and Shepard smiled.

 

“Sure,” she agreed. She stroked her daughter’s hair softly for a few more moments before getting up.

 

“Goodnight, Leigh,” she called gently as she turned out the light. There was no reply—the girl was already asleep.

 

As she walked out into the hallway she nearly collided with her husband.

 

“That story sounded oddly familiar,” Garrus mused teasingly, leaning against the wall.

 

Shepard crossed her arms. “How long were you listening?” she asked.

 

“Oh,” Garrus began, “long enough to hear the princess wax poetic about the prince and his loyal knights,” he teased.

 

She shook her head with a small smile, heading past him to their bedroom. He followed, speaking up as the door closed behind them. “So you asked him to join us, huh?”

 

Shepard didn’t look up as she turned down the bedsheet. “He said no before I asked, actually.”

 

“Do you think he regrets not going?” Garrus mused.

 

Shepard shrugged. “Probably. He could have been a hero.”

 

He couldn’t stop the next question. “Do you?”

 

She looked up at him, surprised at the question. “No,” she said. “Never.”

 

She came over and wrapped her arms around him. “The princess got a better deal than she bargained for,” she said quietly, looking up into his eyes. One of her hands reached up to stroke his face.

 

Even after all the time they had spent together, he still sometimes had lingering doubts. “I just wonder, well, it would be easier…” he fumbled over his words. “You could have your own children. You could have a normal life.”

 

She shook her head. “Honestly, Garrus, you think I could ever have a normal life?” She let out a small laugh. “And while Miranda may have been disappointed that I didn’t ‘pass on my genetic material’ as she so charmingly put it, I sure as hell don’t want to deal with another one of me.”

 

She paused, meeting his eyes. “I don’t want normal. I want you. This is all I’ve ever wanted. You know that.” She kissed him gently, leaning her forehead against his.

 

“Sorry, love,” he said. “Sometimes I just wonder. You could have anyone. You’re Commander Shepard, legendary war hero, and I’m—“

 

“Garrus Vakarian, legendary war hero?” Shepard supplied with a smile, one that he couldn’t help returning.

 

She kissed him again, and grinned. “There’s no Shepard without Vakarian, remember?”

 

…


	72. Priorities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Leigh Vakarian finds out who her parents are, and is less than impressed. Shepard/Garrus, post-ME3.

I was reading when I heard the noise. My head snapped up immediately, eyes searching for its origin. I found it quickly—the television showed an image of a reaper, the source of the sound that still haunted my dreams after so many years.

 

I glanced over at my daughter whose wide eyes were glued to the screen. “Leigh, I think you should find something else to watch,” I told her firmly, heart still racing. Even after all these years, the reapers had such power over me. That sound… it sent a panic through me that nothing else could produce.

 

Leigh sighed and changed the channel, but seemed little inclined to pay attention anymore. “Mama?” she said, coming over to sit by me. “You were in the reaper war, weren’t you?”

 

“Yes,” I told her simply, putting an arm around her. “Both your father and I fought in the war.”

 

She looked contemplative for a second. “Mama, are you the real Commander Shepard, the hero that was in the movie?”

 

I cursed myself for not paying attention. How much had that movie said about me before I made her turn it off? Enough people still called me ‘Commander’ that even my young daughter could put two and two together.

 

“Yes, Leigh,” I said with a sigh. “I’m the one from the movie.” I wasn’t sure how much more I ought to explain to her—as with Cassius, Garrus and I knew we had to tell her who we were before she started school (we didn’t want her to find out from someone else), but we hadn’t planned on doing it quite yet.

 

Her eyes lit up. “Does this mean you’re a movie star?” she asked excitedly.

 

I had to laugh. “No, kiddo, someone else played me in the movie. I only fought in the real war.”

 

“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. Her tiny brow was knit into a frown as she thought quietly for a few minutes. “Are you very famous?” she asked, big eyes looking up at me.

 

I huffed in amusement, giving her a squeeze. “I don’t know about _very_ famous,” I told her. “A little famous,” I conceded. She nodded seriously, and I hid a smile.

 

She bit her lip and looked up at me. “Is that why you’re always talking to important people?” she asked. I had gotten used to her asking strings of questions like this—in the past few months she had gotten into a very curious stage and was always asking me or Garrus a thousand questions about one thing or another.

 

“Yes,” I told her, and explained. “Sometimes the Alliance military or Citadel Council ask me for advice or to go on missions for them. That’s why I have to go away sometimes.” As much as I enjoyed getting back in the fight every now and then, it was hard for me to leave my children to do so. Though most of my missions weren’t incredibly dangerous, there was always a lingering fear in the back of my mind that I wouldn’t come home to them. I knew what it was like to lose a family.

 

“Daddy too?” she asked, and I nodded. She seemed satisfied with those answers, and I decided to let the matter rest. But only a few minutes after getting back to my reading, I was once again interrupted.

 

“Mama?” she asked again, tugging on my sleeve. I looked over at her. Her eyes were wide and hopeful. “If you’re famous, then… then can you take me to meet movie stars?”

 

So _that’s_ what this was about. It was all I could do to hold in a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do, kiddo,” I told her, ruffling her hair.

 

Her face lit up in a smile, and I had to shake my head. The priorities of four-year-olds.

 

As she danced off towards her bedroom, I smiled after her. Apparently Garrus and I didn’t have so much to worry about after all.

 

Only a child could make galactic heroism feel so trivial.

 

…


	73. My Trip To Toochanka (by Leigh Vakarian)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The youngest Vakarian writes an essay for school about her summer vacation. Post-trilogy.

This summer I went to Toochanka to visit my uncle Rex. It was fun because me and my brother got to play with his kids. He has at least 1000.

 

Krogan kids are fun to play with. they have fun games. Little Krogan can curl in to a ball and roll. I would like to roll like a krogan baby.

 

I also playd with urz the varren and grunt. Grunt has a funny laugh. I like Grunt. He lets me hold his gun. We play shoot the pyjak.

 

Uncle Rex is my favorite, more than Grunt and Urz the varren. He is a hero he cured the genofage and had lots of babies. He and my mom and my dad are frends. He is my frend too.

 

uncle Rex has a pet named kalros. Kalros is a thresher maw. I do not know what that is but my mom wont let me play with it.

 

That is the story of my trip to toochanka. I want to go back next summer

 

            by Leigh Vakarian

                        age 7


	74. Nothing Gets Past Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After you "raise" a pure krogan and an insane biotic, regular teenagers are a piece of cake. Shepard/Garrus, post-trilogy.

Cassius Vakarian had just reached the front door in the dark, breathing a quiet sigh of relief, when he heard a noise behind him.

 

“Who is it, Cas?” The young turian whirled around to see his mother casually leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

 

He stared, startled. “What?”

 

Shepard pushed herself off the wall and stepped towards him. “The boy or girl you’re sneaking out to see,” she said matter-of-factly. At his shocked expression she couldn’t hide a smirk. “You’re not the first teenager I’ve raised, you know,” she reminded him. “Though I can’t say I ever had to worry about Grunt or Jack sneaking out during the night,” she mused, conceding, “You almost had me there.”

 

Cas huffed, mandibles flaring. “Mom, I’m fourteen. I leave home next year, and you still won’t let me stay out after midnight.”

 

Shepard appraised her son. She wondered where the time had gone—he was taller than her already. After a long moment, she gave him a slight nod. “Keep your omni-tool on and don’t stay out all night,” she instructed.

 

“And for the love of God,” she added, “remember to practice safe sex!” She choked down a laugh at her son’s wide-eyed reaction.

 

“Have fun,” she said lightly, turning to go upstairs. Cas shook his head and reached for the door.

 

His parents were _so_ embarrassing.

 

…


	75. Idioms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassius Vakarian talks like a human. His fellow soldiers find it amusing. Post-ME3.

Cassius loved his mom and all, but sometimes it was really frustrating to have a human for a mother.

 

Especially when his fellow soldiers found his usage of human phrases hilarious. How was he supposed to know that “three sheets to the wind” wouldn’t make sense to other turians?

 

It was easy enough to figure out not to say “tongue-in-cheek” and “playing chicken” around them, but why did his platoon have to laugh when he suggested that their lieutenant had lost his marbles?

 

Of course, telling them that his mother was Commander-motherfucking-Shepard seemed to shut them up for a while.

 

Right up until he let it slip that it was raining cats and dogs.

 

…


	76. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard gets the crew together for the first time in years, twenty years after the end of the Reaper War. Shepard/Garrus, post-ME3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only new chapter of Starlight, written because the original version (from 2012/2013) had no true ending. Thank you for joining me through this journey!

Garrus sighed as he watched his wife compulsively wiping at one of the plate glass windows overlooking the beach. “Sweetheart, please relax. Not everything needs to be spotless. Most of them have seen the house before.”

 

She stepped back from the window and turned to him, hardly looking any older than she had when she’d found him on Omega all those years ago. Whatever Miranda had done during Project Lazarus had slowed her aging. She’d live longer than any human—if she could keep herself out of trouble. Garrus had a vested interested in keeping it that way.

 

“This is different,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “This is everyone. We haven’t seen them all together since…” Both paused to think.

 

“Since after we eloped,” Garrus finished for her. “When Liara threw that surprise reception.” He pulled his wife to him. “It’s been a long time.”

 

“I want it to be perfect,” Shepard admitted, tucking the cleaning cloth into her waistband as she leaned into his embrace.

 

“It won’t be that,” Garrus said. “Not with all these personalities together. But it will be interesting, if nothing else.”

 

She smiled. “It always is with this crowd.” She pulled out of his grasp, moving towards the back door. “I’m going to go check on the rentals again. What time is the grocery delivery?”

 

Garrus tried hard not to roll his eyes—this was the third time she’d asked so far. “Groceries will be here in about an hour,” he called to her receding form as she slipped out. “I’ll just… wait here,” he added to the closed door. He was starting to think their daughter had the right idea, hiding in her room all morning.

 

…

 

Shepard eyed the scene outside with satisfaction. A dozen prefabs littered the grass edging the beach. The rentals were the only way she and Garrus could accommodate all the old crew and any family they were bringing—while they’d expanded their little beach house more than once over the years, it wasn’t big enough for this.

 

She went to the first one and keyed in the code to enter. She blinked as it turned red, remaining locked. What could have happened since yesterday to… “Garrus!” she yelled, stomping back to the house.

 

“You locked me out of the rentals!” she accused from the back door.

 

He walked over, trying to put a placating hand on her shoulder. She slipped away. “Everything is already perfect,” he said. “You finished setting them up yesterday.”

 

“A lot can happen in a day,” she grumbled. “I need to check on them.”

 

Garrus sighed. “They’ll all be drunk by the time they go to bed anyway. They won’t notice if anything’s out of place.”

 

She put her hands on her hips. “Just unlock the damn doors, Vakarian.” In all the years that had passed, her technical skills still hadn’t improved enough for her to hack into anything her husband had locked.

 

Garrus tilted his head. “How about a little competition,” he said, his voice smooth as butter. “If you out shoot me, I’ll unlock them. Sniper rifles only, of course.”

 

“Trying to make this hard on me?” she asked, raising a brow. Her lips started to curve into a smile.

 

He shrugged. “It wouldn’t be fun if it was easy.”

 

So they went down to the beach and began throwing targets for each other. Garrus felt a bit of smug satisfaction at concocting this distraction for his wife. Not that Garrus wasn’t a bit nervous himself about the party—the last time they’d invited a bunch of krogan over, they’d started shooting bottles _inside_ the house.

 

But he couldn’t say he wasn’t looking forward to it. It had been years since he’d had the pleasure of watching Miranda rile up Jack… or seeing Tali, Liara, and Shepard giggling together like teenagers.

 

Whatever was to come, he thought it would be a good night.

 

…

 

Shepard and Garrus stayed near the doors as everyone slowly filtered in. Leigh had finally emerged from her room when Tali arrived with her daughters, and all the girls had all gone off somewhere to talk about whatever teen girls talked about these days.

 

Jacob and Kaidan were drinking beer in the kitchen, trying to one-up each other with their children’s accomplishments. Kasumi was hanging around nearby, attempting to get Jacob’s attention as she’d been doing ever since his divorce.

 

Ken and Gabby had arrived looking harried—their twelve year old had tried to tinker with the shuttle while they were onboard. According to the kid’s loud protests, the shuttle wouldn’t have gone into a nosedive had they not stopped him in the middle of his work. Shepard vowed to keep an eye on the boy to make sure he wasn’t messing with any of the house’s systems.

 

Chakwas and Adams arrived together. Over the years Shepard often wondered if there was something going on there, but the doctor never would say. Following shortly behind them were Joker and EDI, still flying about the galaxy together.

 

“They tried to transfer me off the Normandy and EDI shut down all the primary systems,” Joker bragged. Garrus rolled his eyes—he’d heard this story half a dozen times before.

 

A few more familiar faces arrived with the Normandy crew. Traynor was glowing with excitement about her new girlfriend, and Shepard raised a brow at the ring on Cortez’s finger. Well, he’d always been the marrying type.

 

Wrex arrived with—thankfully—only two of his children and Grunt in tow, though the two were sorely disappointed to find out that Garrus and Shepard’s son wouldn’t be in attendance. There was a little hero worship going on between the young krogan boys and the older turian. But Cassius was away doing his compulsory military service, so the boys would have to do without. Grunt slapped both boys on the humps and dragged them out to the beach for a bit of target practice to burn off some energy.

 

Miranda arrived with her daughter just as it was getting dark. Garrus side-eyed the pistol strapped to the teenager’s thigh, but Miranda had always been paranoid.

 

Liara followed after, engaged in a call on her omni-tool even as she entered the house. She was still in love with her work after all these years.

 

Samara and Zaeed arrived in the same shuttle, talking as if they were old friends. It was strange, Shepard thought, since she’d almost never seen them interact when they were onboard the Normandy together. Samara was as serene as she’d always been, but seemed more at peace. She passed on greetings from her daughter Falere as she entered the house. Zaeed went to find Grunt and the young krogan, hoping to impress the boys with some tales of his adventures.

 

Jack was the last to arrive, just as loud and brash as ever, with six crates of different types of liquor from around the galaxy. “In case you old shits forgot how to party,” she said, the crates floating behind her in a biotic glow.

 

Everyone mingled for a while. Catching up, eating finger foods (well labeled for levo and dextro), and drinking whatever Liara and Traynor mixed up for them behind the bar. Shepard slipped in and out of the kitchen, checking on dinner. When it was ready, she gathered everyone together, getting their attention with a sharp whistle.

 

“Hi everyone,” she said to the crowd. “It’s amazing to see all of your faces together again! I’ll keep this short, so you can get back to eating my food and drinking my alcohol. You know, the real reasons you’re here,” she said with a grin. She looked at all of her friends, gathered together for the first time in nearly two decades.

 

“Twenty years ago, I never could have believed we’d be here today. A future as bright and beautiful as this one seemed too much to ask. But… twenty years ago we went on to do the impossible together.” She paused for a long moment. “I thought I would die in that war. I thought we all might. But look at us now!”

 

She spread her arms, indicating the crowd. “We’ve come so far and accomplished so much. I want to thank each of you for the part you played in getting us here. Because I know I couldn’t have had this wonderful life without all of you.”

 

Shepard paused again, taking a deep breath. “On this anniversary of the end of the war, I’d also like to take a moment to remember and appreciate those who gave their lives so we could have this future. Our teammates and friends: Ashley, Mordin, Legion, Javik, and James.”

 

Sensing the mood shift, she paused a moment. “I know that wherever they are, they’re looking down on us proudly. But don’t mourn for them. _Live_ for them. And in keeping with that… let’s go eat!” She motioned everyone towards the kitchen, where a buffet awaited them. Hanging back, she and Garrus waited while the others got their food.

 

“Good speech,” he said.

 

She shrugged. “It was alright. I’m a bit out of practice.” She bumped his hip with her own.

 

“I don’t know,” he said, taking that hip in his talons as he pulled her close. “Your speeches inspire me regularly.”

 

After a shared grin and a brief kiss, the two of them followed the crowd towards dinner.

 

They spent the night dancing, laughing, and mingling with their friends. Catching up on all the news they’d missed. Some people were harder to keep in touch with than others. It had been two years since Shepard had seen Miranda, who was kept busy with spectre missions from the Citadel council. The Normandy crew rarely got a break—being one of the most famous ships in Citadel space kept them busy. Kaidan had given up command of the Normandy over a decade ago, in lieu of an Alliance desk job on Earth that would keep him near his growing family. Shepard wasn’t personally familiar with the current captain, but Kaidan and Joker had both assured her that she would have approved.

 

Tali had perhaps been the most common visitor to the Shepard-Vakarian home. The close friendship between their daughters had formed between back-and-forth visits between Elysium and Rannoch over the years. Chakwas had gone into a semi-retirement, which allowed her to visit regularly. Liara’s visits were rare, but her calls came on a precise weekly schedule. Wrex almost never visited, due to his many responsibilities, but they had a standing invitation on Tuchanka that Shepard and Garrus often took advantage of.

 

Most of the others visited sporadically, between work and family obligations. But they all knew they were always welcome. The Vakarian children had gotten used to a rotating cast of “aunts” and “uncles” that would drop by unexpectedly.

 

Though Shepard spent most of the night mingling with her guests, by the end of it she was sitting on the back porch leaning against her husband, watching all the children—now mostly teenagers—laughing and playing around the bonfire on the beach.

 

“This is what we fought for all those years ago,” she said quietly. “Look how happy and carefree they are.”

 

Garrus nuzzled his wife’s neck. “Thanks to you. Without you, we wouldn’t have any of this.”

 

“Don’t count yourself out,” she said, turning to meet his eyes. “No Shepard without Vakarian. I couldn’t have done any of it without you. I love you, Garrus.” She pressed her forehead to his.

 

“As I love you, Tempest.” He kissed her a moment before pulling away and glancing at the group by the bonfire. “You think the kids will be alright without us?”

 

Shepard’s lips pulled into a smile. “You want to go upstairs?”

 

His mandibles flared in a grin. “Isn’t that how all our best parties end?”

 

She stood, pulling him by the wrist into the house and running up the stairs to their bedroom.

 

Jack called loudly after them, “Twenty years and you still can’t keep it in your pants?”

 

“I think it’s sweet,” Traynor said, sitting up on the bar.

 

Jack rolled her eyes. “Sure you’re old enough to be drinking, princess?”

 

The party raged on until even the teenagers fell asleep.

 

…

 

Cassius Vakarian’s mandibles fluttered in amusement as he opened the front door of his home.

 

His parents’ old friends were asleep everywhere. The couches were taken, spots on the floor were used as beds… there was even one person slumped over the bar. He was willing to bet most of those prefabs his parents had rented were empty. He doubted many of the guests were sober enough to find their way to them last night.

 

“Anyone awake?” he called softly, stepping over Jacob and an un-cloaked Kasumi as he made his way into the living room.

 

“I’m here, Cassius,” he heard a robotic voice say from the darkened kitchen. He followed the voice and turned on the light.

 

“Sitting in the dark?” he asked. “Very creepy, EDI.”

 

“I did not want to disturb the sleeping guests,” she said. “Do your parents know you were coming home?”

 

He huffed a laugh. “It’s a surprise. Do you think you can start some coffee for the crowd in there?” he asked, tilting his head towards the living room. “It’s probably going to get loud once the family knows I’m here.”

 

“I will take care of it, Cassius,” she said, standing. She paused. “And it is good to see you.”

 

He smiled. “It’s good to see you too, EDI.”

 

Cassius went back through the living room and headed up the stairs, not bothering to step quietly. “Anyone awake up there? Anyone want to welcome their only son home?”

 

A door at the top of the stairs opened with the sound of a feminine gasp. “Cassi!” cried Leigh as she ran for him. She was the only one who got away with calling him that.

 

She caught him at the landing halfway down the stairs, jumping into his arms as he laughed. “Hey squirt,” he said, swinging her around. “Did you get taller?”

 

“Never as tall as you, freak,” she teased him. “Jeez, you gained like a million pounds of muscle while you were gone. You’re fucking huge!”

 

“Language,” called Shepard from the top of the stairs. She came down slowly as Cassius set Leigh back on the ground.

 

“Cassius,” she said softly, pressing her forehead to his for a moment before hugging him tightly. “I missed you so much!”

 

She released her son in time for Garrus to catch up, their subvocals singing in happy harmony as they embraced.

 

“Why didn’t you say you were coming?” Leigh demanded. “Why weren’t you here last night?”

 

Garrus put his arm around Shepard as they watched their kids climb the stairs together, Leigh pestering her big brother as he went to put his things away.

 

“Good surprise?” he asked.

 

Shepard turned her eyes to her husband’s, shining with happy tears. “The best.”

 

With the sounds of their children together upstairs and their friends stirring downstairs, Shepard felt a deep peace settle within her.

 

Garrus and Shepard headed slowly downstairs to wake their guests. It was a beautiful morning in paradise. All was well.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! Please let me know your thoughts in the comments.
> 
> I have at least two one-shots centered on side characters that will be posted at some point, so stay tuned! If you'd like to be alerted when those are posted, please subscribe to the "Tempest Shepard Collection."


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